Sports in African History, Politics, and Identity Formation 2018056632, 2018061547, 9780429508110, 9780429668647, 9780429668555, 9780429668425, 9781138549982, 9781138579330

Citation preview

SPORTS IN AFRICAN HISTORY, POLITICS, AND IDENTITY FORMATION

Sports in African History, Politics, and Identity Formation explores how sports can render a key to unlocking complex social, political, economic, and gendered relations across Africa and the Diaspora. Sports hold significant value and have an intricate relationship with many components of African societies throughout history. For many Africans, sports are a way of life, a site of cultural heroes, a way out of poverty and social mobility, and a site for leisurely play. This book focuses on the many ways in which sports uniquely reflect changing cultural trends at diverse levels of African societies. The contributors detail various sports, such as football, cricket, ping pong, and rugby, across the continent to show how sports lay at the heart of the discourse of nationalism, self-fashioning, gender and masculinity, leisure and play, challenges of underdevelopment, and ideas of progress. Bringing together the newest and most innovative scholarship on African sports, this book will be of interest to students and scholars of contemporary Africa, African history, culture and society, and sports history and politics. Michael J. Gennaro is Assistant Professor of History at Bossier Parish Community College, USA. Saheed Aderinto is Associate Professor of History at Western Carolina University, USA.

This page intentionally left blank

SPORTS IN AFRICAN HISTORY, POLITICS, AND IDENTITY FORMATION

Edited by Michael J. Gennaro and Saheed Aderinto

First published 2019 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2019 selection and editorial matter, Michael J. Gennaro and Saheed Aderinto; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Michael J. Gennaro and Saheed Aderinto to be identified as the authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Gennaro, Michael (Michael J.), editor. | Aderinto, Saheed, editor. Title: Sports in African history, politics, and identity formation / edited by Michael J. Gennaro and Saheed Aderinto. Description: Abingdon, Oxon ; New York, NY : Routledge, 2019. | Includes bibliographical references. Identifiers: LCCN 2018056632 (print) | LCCN 2018061547 (ebook) | ISBN 9780429508110 (Ebook) | ISBN 9780429668647 (Adobe Reader) | ISBN 9780429668555 (Epub) | ISBN 9780429668425 (Mobipocket) | ISBN 9781138549982 (hardback) | ISBN 9781138579330 (pbk.) Subjects: LCSH: Sports--Africa--History. | Sports--Social aspects--Africa. | Sports--Political aspects--Africa. | Sports and state--Africa. Classification: LCC GV665 (ebook) | LCC GV665 .S68 2019 (print) | DDC 796.096--dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018056632 ISBN: 978-1-138-54998-2 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-138-57933-0 (pbk) ISBN: 978-0-429-50811-0 (ebk) Typeset in Bembo by Taylor & Francis Books

Dick Tiger, 1929–1971 (boxer); Hogan Bassey, 1932–1998 (boxer); Rashidi Yekini, 1963–2012 (footballer); Chioma Ajunwa, 1970– (Olympic gold medalist)

This page intentionally left blank

CONTENTS

List of tables List of contributors Preface and acknowledgements Introduction Michael Gennaro and Saheed Aderinto 1 “I was really disgusted at seeing healthy young boys playing Ping-pong”: Ping-pong and masculinity in post-World War II Nigeria Michael Gennaro

ix x xiv 1

14

2 Pas de deux as I tell you: Physical education, dance, and the remaking of discipline in World War II Brazzaville Danielle Porter Sanchez

28

3 Cameroonian cricket: The interface between local and dominant colonial ideologies Joanne Clarke

43

4 Political action in sports development during the National Liberation Council Era in Ghana Kwame Adum-Kyeremeh

59

5 “The best of the best”: The politicization of sports under Ghana’s Supreme Military Council Humphrey Asamoah Agyekum

73

viii Contents

6 “We have material second to none”: Colored sportsmen and masculine competition in the South African press, 1936–1960 Cody S. Perkins

89

7 Playing away from home: The nature of soccer integration in South Africa, 1978–1984 Gustav Venter

106

8 Examining physical culture in a local context Francois Cleophas 9 “Visionary courtyard players”: The Robben Island Rugby Board and the transition to postapartheid South Africa, ca. 1972–1992 Hendrik Snyders

124

137

10 The birth of the Springboks: How early international rugby matches unified white cultural identity in South Africa Zachary R. Bigalke

152

11 A tale of two sports fields: Contested spaces, histories, and identities at play in rural South Africa Tarminder Kaur

167

12 The bulldog, the pharaoh, and the football: British imperialism and Egypt’s national sport and identity, 1882–1934 Christopher Ferraro

181

13 Sports and physical education in Ethiopia during the Italian Occupation, 1936–1941 Tamirat Gebremariam and Benoit Gaudin

196

14 Commercialization of football in Africa: Prospects, challenges, and experiences Manase Kudzai Chiweshe

206

15 Islam and the foreign Other: Representing the alterity of Hakeem Olajuwon Munene F. Mwaniki

220

16 Afro-Orientalism in the global village: Media imaginations of South Africa and Africa in the coverage of the 2010 World Cup Shepherd Mpofu

237

Index

250

TABLES

7.1 12.1 12.2

Crowd violence at NPSL matches, 1971–1977 Fortunes of the Egyptian National Team Egyptian football teams

111 183 190

CONTRIBUTORS

Saheed Aderinto is associate professor of history at Western Carolina University, USA. He is the author of Guns and Society in Colonial Nigeria: Firearms, Culture, and Public Order and When Sex Threatened the State: Illicit Sexuality, Nationalism, and Politics in Colonial Nigeria. Kwame Adum-Kyeremeh is a lecturer at the Department of the History at the University of Ghana. He holds a doctorate in history from the same university. Adum-Kyeremeh has published in journals including Africa Today and Journal of Asian and African Studies. He has also published on Christianity, colonialism, and women and gender in Ghana. Humphrey Asamoah Agyekum acquired his PhD in anthropology from the University of Copenhagen, Denmark. He has a keen interest in the intersection of sports and politics, civil–military relations, coups, and the role of militaries on the African continent since independence. He is currently a postdoctoral researcher at the Department of Sociology, University of Amsterdam. He has conducted extensive field studies in Guinea-Bissau and Ghana. Zach R. Bigalke is a recent MA graduate from the University of Oregon, USA. His academic research focuses on national identity, immigration, and race in the context of football codes. He has contributed scholarship to Sport in American History and Soccer & Society, and is a member of the North American Society for Sport History. He is currently working on a book about Argentine-born soccer players who represented Italy in the 1934 World Cup. Manase Chiweshe is a senior lecturer in the Sociology Department, University of Zimbabwe. His latest book is entitled The People’s Game: Football Fandom in Zimbabwe.

List of contributors xi

Chiweshe’s work revolves around the sociology of everyday life in African spaces, with special focus on promoting African ways of knowing. His recent work has concentrated on football and identity. He has published in journals such as Critical African Studies, African Identities, Agenda, Agrarian South and Journal of Asian and African Studies. Joanne Clarke is a lecturer in sport business management within the Academy of Sport and Physical Activity at Sheffield Hallam University, UK. Clarke’s research focuses on the use of sport within international development contexts, specifically African postcolonial nations. Her PhD thesis considers how discourses produced by international sport for development NGOs are responded to and given meaning by local practitioners in Cameroon. She has previously published “Sport Policy in Cameroon” in the International Journal of Sport Policy and Politics. Francois Cleophas is senior lecturer in sport history at Stellenbosch University, South Africa. His research field is physical culture and Black South African athletic history. Since 2011 he has published 28 articles in accredited journals and has delivered 22 national and international conference papers. He has a book chapter, “A historical account of physical education in South Africa,” in I. Lane (Ed.) Teaching Physical Education and Sports Coaching. Christopher Ferraro is an adjunct assistant professor at St. John’s University, USA and teaches global and world history at Spring Valley High School in New York. In 2015 he completed his doctorate in modern world history at St. John’s University. His dissertation, “Imperialism, Cultural Identity, and Football: How the British Empire Created Egypt’s National Sport” focused on British imperialism and its cultural impact in Africa and Asia. Benoit Gaudin is associate professor of sociology at Université de Versailles Saint-Quentin-en-Yvelines, France. He co-edited a book on Kenyan and Ethiopian Athletics: Towards an Alternative Scientific Approach with Bezabih Wolde, and an issue of Actes de la Recherche en Sciences Sociales with Johan Heibron. As a sport sociologist, he has published several papers and book chapters on capoeira, martial arts, basketball, and East African track and field. Tamirat Gebremariam is lecturer in history at Debre Berhan University, Ethiopia. His research areas include sport, leisure, gender, and cultural studies. He published “Sport History of Ethiopia: A Case Study of Ethiopian Women Athletics” in Gaudin Benoit and Bezabih Wolde (Eds.) Kenya and Ethiopian Athletics Towards an Alternative Scientific Approach. Michael J. Gennaro is assistant professor of history at Bossier Parish Community College, USA. His research focuses on sport, masculinity, and boxing in Nigeria, as well as the migration of sporting talent across the British Empire. He is currently revising his dissertation, “Nigeria in the Ring: Boxing, Masculinity, and Empire in

xii List of contributors

Nigeria, 1930–1957,” for publication. He has also published “Ace Boxing Promoter: ‘Superhuman Power,’ Boxing, and Sports Entrepreneurship in Colonial Nigeria, 1945–60” in Moses E. Ochonu (Ed.) Entrepreneurship in Africa: A Historical Approach, and “‘The Whole Place is in Pandemonium’: Dick Tiger Versus Gene Fullmer III, and the Consumption of Boxing in Nigeria” in The International Journal of the History of Sport. Shepherd Mpofu holds a PhD in media studies and is a senior lecturer in communication studies at the University of Limpopo, South Africa. He is a former global excellence research fellow at the University of Johannesburg. His research and teaching interests are in media and identity, politics, digital media, citizen journalism, and comparative media systems. His publications have appeared in African Identities, Journal of African Cultural Studies, African Journalism Studies, and the Journal of African Media Studies. Tarminder Kaur is a postdoctoral research fellow at the Institute for Reconciliation and Social Justice, University of the Free State, South Africa. For her doctoral thesis she wrote an ethnography of sports among the farm workers of the Western Cape, South Africa. Her recent publications include “Farm Worker Development Agenda: What Does Sports Have To Do With It?” in Femke Brandt and Grasian Mkodzongi (Eds.) Land Reform Revisited, and “(Un)Becoming Mountain Tigers Football Club: An Ethnography of Sports among the Western Cape’s Farm Workers” in the journal Anthropology Southern Africa. Munene Mwaniki is the author of The Black Migrant Athlete: Media, Race, and the Diaspora in Sports, a book that details the complicated and contradictory media discourses that work to maintain white supremacy through sport in the West. He is currently an assistant professor at Western Carolina University in Cullowhee, North Carolina, USA, and specializes in the intersections of race, immigration, and sport. His work has appeared in journals and outlets such as the International Review for the Sociology of Sport, Communication & Sport, and Engaging Sports, while also writing op-eds on various topics for regional newspapers. His current research project focuses on the distinct experiences and family narratives of the Embu people during the fight for independence in colonial Kenya. Cody Perkins is a historian of South Africa whose research centers on the intersections of masculinity and race in the twentieth century. His dissertation, “Coloured Men, Moffies, and Meanings of Masculinity in South Africa, 1910–1960,” explores the global identities Coloured men embraced to combat racialized and sexualized stereotypes under white-supremacist rule. He is particularly interested in how Coloured men compared themselves with African Americans in the United States and Ma-ori in New Zealand. He currently teaches high school in Greensboro, North Carolina, USA.

List of contributors xiii

Danielle Porter Sanchez is an assistant professor of history and Africana studies at Muhlenberg College, USA. Her current book, Free(ing) France in Colonial Brazzaville: Race, Urban Space, and the Making of Afrique Française Libre focuses on daily life in the city of Brazzaville during the Second World War. Her teaching and research interests include popular culture, francophone and lusophone Africa, memory, experiences of war, and urban history. Hendrik Snyders is the head of department of history at the National Museum (Bloemfontein) and a research associate at the Department of History, Stellenbosch University, both in South Africa. His research focuses on race, sport, masculinity, memory, heritage, and public history as well as colonialism in South Africa. Hendrik graduated with a PhD (history) from the University of Stellenbosch. He has published extensively in peer-reviewed journals such as Sporting Traditions, International Journal of the History of Sport, Historia, African Historical Review, Scientia Militaria, and African Research and Documentation. He has also co-authored Tries and Conversions: South Africans in Rugby League with Peter Lush. Gustav Venter is the research coordinator for the Centre for Human Performance Sciences at Stellenbosch University in South Africa. He holds a PhD in history from Stellenbosch University. His doctoral thesis explored the intersection between soccer, politics, and race in apartheid South Africa. His work has featured in The International Journal of the History of Sport, South African Historical Journal, and most recently The Palgrave International Handbook of Football and Politics.

PREFACE AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This volume of sixteen chapters tackles the roles of sport across changing political and cultural landscape in Africa. The contributors, who cut across academic ranks, are based in institutions in North America, Europe, and Africa. Aside from providing a general framework for a scholarly engagement with history of sport in Africa, this volume features specific chapters on a wide variety of sports and physical activities: Ping-Pong, dance, cricket, soccer, and rugby. The contributors focus on the overlapping themes of race, location, gender, class, colonialism, politics, and globalization. They demonstrate that it is impossible to understand the transformation of African societies without taking sport seriously. How people socialized, defined their roles within unstable cultural boundaries, and measured the progress of development in their community are intricately connected with sporting activities. As the contributors carefully establish, local and global processes combined with the agendas of powerful individuals and groups to place sports at the center of national or state politics. The politicization of sporting arenas, the use of sports for colonial indoctrination and empire building, notions of superior masculinity, and media representations of sportsmen and women all operated within the context of the indispensability of sport to the notion of ideal statehood. From a practically unknown sport field in a remote community in Egypt to the FIFA World Cup stadium in South Africa, sport had an intimate connection to everyday life of Africans at both micro and macro levels. Moreover, notable international sporting events and the diasporic presence of African athletes provide exciting vantage points from which to view African sports in global perspective. We would like to thank the contributors for working with us to get this volume published as scheduled. We also thank our institution librarians (especially Daniel Wendel at Western Carolina University, USA), who have aided our work in unquantifiable way. The staff of Routledge (Leanne Hinves, Henry Strang, and Leela Vathenen) showed deep interest in the project right from the beginning and worked with us diligently until the end. Our families deserve special appreciation for their unflinching support and encouragement.

INTRODUCTION Michael Gennaro and Saheed Aderinto

Many claims have been made that footballer Didier Drogba stopped the civil war in Côte d’Ivoire.1 Ivorians had been at war with each other for over five years. On October 8, 2005, Drogba, the star player on Les Éléphants, the national team, helped Côte d’Ivoire qualify for the upcoming FIFA World Cup, to be held in Germany in 2006, by defeating Sudan 3–1. It was the country’s first ever qualification for the World Cup. After the victory, on national TV, Drogba, in the middle of celebrating, took the microphone in the locker room and gave an impassioned speech surrounded by his teammates, one that many say changed the face of the fighting: Men and women of Ivory Coast, from the north, south, center, and west. We proved today that all Ivorians can coexist and play together with a shared aim, to qualify for the World Cup. We promised you that the celebration would unite the people. Today, we beg you, on our knees … Forgive. Forgive… Lay down your weapons.2 Within a week, the warring sides were at the table with one another, and credit was given to the national football team and Drogba for enabling them to communicate and sign a temporary truce. We do not take a stance on whether Drogba can be credited with ending the civil war in Côte d’Ivoire and uniting his people, this is not the issue at hand. Rather, our concern is the centrality of sport to Africans, its nation-building and unifying prospects, the intense role sport plays in the lives of those on the continent, and the ability of sport to intersect various aspects of life—from politics, to leisure, to economics. Drogba’s example highlights how sport can be a catalyst for change and a symbol for a nation, even if only as a myth. But it can also show how sport becomes at its very core a microcosm for social processes, and a site where

2 M. Gennaro and S. Aderinto

civil discourse is played out. Sport plays an incredibly important role in the lives of Africans, and the need for a deeper understanding of its significance, past and present, is the focus of this volume. This is one of the first books in over thirty years to tackle the subject of sport in African history, since William Baker and J.A. Mangan’s groundbreaking Sport in African History in 1987.3 Sport, historically and presently, holds significant value and has an intricate relationship with many components of African societies. For many Africans, sports are a way of life, a source of cultural heroes, a way out of poverty and means of social mobility, and a site for leisurely play. Moreover, the social, political, and economic effects of sport are felt from the smallest village in southwestern Nigeria to the international competitions of the Olympic Games and the FIFA World Cup. This volume seeks to explore how sports can open a window to viewing the complex social, political, economic, and gendered relations across Africa and the African diaspora. It will examine the many ways in which sports uniquely reflect changing cultural trends at diverse levels of African societies. One of the agendas of this book is not only to further help solidify the burgeoning scholarship on African sports in South Africa, but also to encourage scholars of all parts of Africa to consider African sports studies as a viable subfield of African studies. This volume’s focus on both historical and contemporary trends in African sports is aimed at engaging how the past shapes the present and the future. We are convinced that African sports can best be appreciated by placing the past and the present in a single analytical and theoretical dialogue. The thematic section of the book that details the international dimension of African sports is important for coming to terms with how global developments influence the identity of Africans both within and outside the continent. The stories of African athletes who moved to other parts of the world to ply their trade is intricately connected with the long history of African physical and cultural presence outside the continent, as well as the historical resource extraction flowing from the continent. Our primary agenda in this section of the book is not only to connect African sports with the wider practice of leisure, but also to call for a sustained scholarly attention on African diaspora sports as a viable field of African sports history. The strength of this book is obvious—existing works focus primarily on only one genre of sports or one country. From the story of the integration of physical education into the mainstream colonial discourse of wellness, to those of rugby, cricket, and table tennis, the present volume seeks to expand the scholarship by bringing the discourse of African sports into a single analytical framework, while also emphasizing the peculiar nature of each sport and the impacts they create across time and location. What is more, existing scholarship on African sports tends to focus on the postcolonial period, with a heavy emphasis on postapartheid South Africa.4 The chapters in this book span the colonial period to the postcolonial era across the entire continent of Africa. They tackle how different types of sports intersect with popular notions of leisure, race, nationalism, gender and masculinity, self-representation and identity construction, and the significant presence of Africans around the world.

Introduction 3

Sport as a mode of inquiry: Why sports? Sport is universal. As John Nauright argues, the appropriation of sport is also universal, but differs in scope from place to place.5 Sport therefore is a multifaceted window through which to view the changes experienced in colonial and postcolonial Africa. As Olusegun Obasa notes, “the emergence of [European] sports in Africa provides insights into the evolving construction of ethnicity, class, and gender, while simultaneously speaking to local ideas about identity and modernity.”6 Modern sports can be found across the continent, making them an ideal object for cross-cultural comparisons. In every African city, one cannot escape the sites and symbols of sport, from large stadiums, to kids playing football in the streets, to bars showing international competitions, to men and women wearing team paraphernalia, to name a few obvious examples. As the chapters in this collection will make clear, sport has the ability to impact multiple facets of everyday life on the continent, while highlighting far-reaching connections locally and abroad. As Susan Brady notes, “rather than viewing sport simply as a reflection or mirror of society and a product of social processes,” scholars have come to recognize and appreciate “that sport has a powerful effect upon culture.”7 To put it another way, Susann Baller and Scarlett Cornelissen describe the scholarship on sport being framed by one of three lenses, and often a combination of two or of all three: sport as “social control,” sport as “contested terrain,” and sport as “social experience.”8 Using sport as an analytical tool, this volume will shed light on these aspects by breaking them down into topics including leisure, nationalism, colonial legacies and postcolonial situations, masculinities, labor, clubs and organizations, apartheid and racism, and the effects of globalization. These are by no means the only categories for analysis; nor are these categories mutually exclusive. As you will see, many of these topics bleed into one another, just as sports cannot be untangled so easily from other aspects of the societies that house them.

Leisure and sport Sport lends itself as an avenue to look at “everyday” life on the continent by using familiar leisurely activities to open up contested ideas and ideals in a given society. As Emmanuel Akyeampong and Charles Ambler note, “beyond the simple importance of describing quotidian lives, the study of leisure [and sport] illuminates social practice and the process of its formation—and puts critical political and cultural issues into relief.”9 By using sports as an analytical tool, scholars can not only study political processes and social mores, but also get into the oft-disregarded nitty-gritty of Africans’ experience. Since modern sports, like football, boxing, and rugby, were brought to the continent just over a century ago, their histories and the lives that these sports touch reveal much, including “the nature of local societies, the lines of division within societies, and many of the critical transformations associated with colonialism, postcolonialism and the development of capitalism.”10 By studying the leisure pursuits of Africans outside of their work, we are able to see what really matters to those in a given society.

4 M. Gennaro and S. Aderinto

Leisure time and place, as Phyllis Martin has shown in her brilliant study of colonial Brazzaville, “were arenas of contest and mediation within European and African subcommunities as well as between them.”11 When and what constituted leisure time engendered fierce debates between groups, as urban Africans were all too aware of factors constraining their time, space, and desire for fun. As colonial officials and, in Martin’s case, the church tried to use football as a means of social control, Martin noticed how Africans could play one side against another to protect their leisure, but also how Africans defined and made leisure their own. It is important to note, however, that the transplanting of leisure and sports activities is never assured, as many sports failed to take hold in Africa, and with variations of popularity and place. How and why they take hold and become popular is another important aspect of such studies, since sport shapes societies and creates sporting cultures.12 This aspect of study shifts our focus off the field of play and onto society at large, where the effects of leisure are felt the most. Sport then resonates and represents shared cultural mores, ideals, and values. Michael Gennaro’s chapter on ping-pong in Nigeria (chapter 1 in this volume), a transplant in the 1940s, highlights this dynamic as the sport became a popular youth endeavor despite objections from older, elite Nigerians. More than anything else, leisure allows us to see how Africans had fun, defined fun, and shaped fun to their demands.

Labor and sports—Clubs, associations, companies, and the military As Ambler notes of leisure in Africa, in one sense it was a tool for social control.13 Sports in Africa were used as such by colonial states, corporate interests, and religious groups for various purposes: to discipline labor, to craft a physically healthy military, and to create model citizens.14 As Anthony Clayton noted over thirty years ago, sport has played, and continues to play, an intricate part in military service on the continent.15 Soldiers in Britain were, since the early twentieth century, trained in physical combat and bayonet technique through boxing.16 The monotony of drill was broken by sporting competitions, and for many Africans who served and fought in two world wars, exposure to sport happened primarily though armed service.17 Many Africans first played certain sports in the armed forces, or distinguished themselves athletically from their peers through military-sponsored sport. For example, the Ghanaian boxer known as “The Black Flash,” Roy Ankrah, distinguished himself as a “world beater” through his successes in the ring while serving during the Burma campaign of World War II.18 Ankrah would later become Ghana’s, and West Africa’s, first Empire Boxing Champion in 1951.19 Athletes played various sports in the armed or police forces, and these teams, after wartime, were active in local leagues across Africa. It was not uncommon to see teams composed around working associations, and the armed forces made up teams known as Army XI or Police XI or Firefighters XI across the continent when sporting leagues grew after World War II. Sports and teams, then, became important social and leisure sites for African men and women, in response to, and at times in opposition to, colonial and postcolonial attempts at social control.

Introduction 5

Building on leisure and labor, sport was an integral part of the working experience for many Africans. As they joined the labor force in civil service positions, especially after World War II, many Africans actively chose to participate in work-based teams. This was a perquisite of working for such an organization or in a civil service position. In fact, competition between companies, the government, and military teams in football became so intense that examples of token jobs were created for exceptional athletes, like Teslim “Thunder” Balogun in Nigeria, who played for such teams as the Railways, Marine, Société Commerciale de l’Ouest Africain (SCOA), and Pan Bank.20 Lisa Lindsay found that in Nigeria, men joined an average of four urban associations and clubs during the colonial era and three in the postcolonial era, with sports associations, clubs, and teams making up a part of this male gendering of the public sphere.21 As Humphrey Asamoah Agyekum’s chapter on the military in Ghana shows (chapter 5 in this volume), these sporting associations were increasingly important for camaraderie and socialization and, above all, for the government, which saw football as a tool for nationalism and nation building. But these clubs were also the site of racial or ethnic segregation, as in Cody Perkins’s look at South African segregated sport (chapter 6), or as in Christopher Ferraro’s look at Egyptian clubs and their politicization (chapter 12), which continues to this day. These clubs, like sports themselves, are never apolitical. Moreover, the politicization of such sporting clubs in many cases led to an increase in nationalism, as found in Perkins’s chapter on Egypt and Tamirat Gebremariam and Benoit Gaudin’s chapter on Ethiopia (chapter 13).

Colonial legacies, postcolonial situations, and the effects of globalization Although modern sport22 and its associated games came to Africa as leisurely transplants, their legacy is felt beyond the sporting arenas, fields, and rings. Sport was part of a larger package brought by colonizers to the continent, and it was wrapped into the British education system, more so than other aspects of colonialism. The British were strong believers that “sport can discipline people’s mind and bodies” and supported being “deeply rooted in sport discourse and politics.”23 As colonial governments were concerned with Africans’ morality, the main role of education, besides to create an educated workforce, was to instill European morals, and what better way to do that than through sports.24 As such, sport was central to the colonial schooling agenda. For example, in the case of the British, colonial schools were deeply invested in a “games ethic”—with schools divided into houses for intramural sport and activities.25 In this way, young Africans would learn proper traits, discipline, respect, and deference. As Anthony Kirk-Greene and others have shown, the British believed so heartily in the role of sports as social disciplinarian that they chose their colonial administrators (what Kirk-Greene called the “colonial athletocracy”) based in part on their sporting exploits while at school.26 Sport was believed (as many still believe) to instill desirable community-held skills, traits, and ideals into its participants and spectators—traits the

6 M. Gennaro and S. Aderinto

British sought when creating their “colonial athletocracy.”27 These administrators helped lay the foundation for sport in many areas in Africa, since they wanted to play their sports, or at the very least watch Africans participate in them, for both social and health benefits to society. Colonizers from Europe, in striving to mold Africans into a viable workforce, increasingly used sport as a means of inculcating desirable traits in their workers.28 Controlling Africans’ leisure time was a massive preoccupation for colonizers and companies, who argued with workers about appropriate forms of leisure in the urban post-World War II environment.29 Martin’s study of Brazzaville shows how colonial strategies for controlling African leisure would “regulate and reproduce an orderly urban society of productive workers and subject populations.”30 This did not stop with the end of colonialism. As Kwame Adum-Kyeremeh’s and Agyekum’s chapters on postindependence Ghana show (chapters 4 and 5), governments after the fall of empires continued to use sport as a vehicle for crafting proper citizens, and continue to do so to this day Scholars who have looked increasingly into the “brain drain” of talented intellectuals and technicians from the developing world to more industrialized nations31 often overlook and undervalue the movement of specialized labor through sport, what John Bale calls “the brawn drain.” This movement has taken on more importance as talented football players, for instance, with alarming regularity leave their teams in Africa for competition, coaching, training, and opportunities in European, North American, and South American leagues.32 This phenomenon is not something recent, as Manase Chiweshe’s chapter on the failure of football leagues on the continent describes (chapter 14), but is also a continuation of the colonial relationship, as in the case of Portugal. Clearly, this “brawn drain” has adversely affected the ability of African sporting leagues to keep their players and grow their product.33

Nationalism and segregation Sport has the power to create bonds of solidarity, be they at the local, provincial, or national level, in ways that politics cannot, as illustrated by the Drogba example above. For women and especially men, sports provide a social opportunity, through both participation and spectatorship, for bonding over sport, team, and locale. In many African communities, both during and after the colonial era, sport was a highly sociable activity, and many people held sporting activities to be the determinant of their social experiences. As Obasa saw with Nigerian sports, “sporting events connected personal identity to collective identity, larger groups which enjoyed a shared passion and sense of loyalty to a team or club, a city, or even to a larger ethnic group.”34 Several contributions to this volume highlight how leisure illuminates larger social processes, such as Gennaro (chapter 1) on ping-pong, and Joanne Clarke (chapter 3) on cricket, and how a sport itself cuts across class, gender, racial, ethnic, or age variables.

Introduction 7

As Anene Ejikeme has shown, the victory of Nigerian boxer Hogan Bassey as world champion in 1957 united Nigerians in a way that politicians of that era could not, making him the only true “national” icon in Nigerian history at a time of intense ethnic conflict.35 Moreover, as colonialism was fading, or in many cases after independence, it was through sporting successes on the international level, such as when the nation was competing at the Olympics or in a FIFA World Cup, that rallying around the idea of the nation happened in ways not seen in other social arenas. The ability of sport to command such attention, as well as to draw disparate peoples together, as shown by Zachary R. Bigalke (chapter 10) on South African whites and rugby, highlights how sport can become a catalyst and a national symbol in times of need. Perhaps the most famous African example was Nelson Mandela and the South African Springboks’ victory at the 1995 Rugby World Cup, on South African soil. As celebrated in books and the movie Invictus, among others, at a time of racial and ethnic anxiety in the early postapartheid era, the victory of the Springboks was heralded as proof that South Africans, no matter their color or race, could coexist and be successful.36 Mandela himself once said: Sport has the power to change the world. It has the power to inspire, the power to unite people that little else does. It speaks to youth in a language they can understand. Sport can create hope where there was only despair. It is more powerful than governments in breaking down racial barriers. It laughs in the face of all types of discrimination.37 Mandela was one among many African leaders to see the potential of sport, and utilize it for the purposes of nation building, as shown in Adum-Kyeremeh’s and Agyekum’s contributions on Ghana and Nkrumah and the Stars ’74 team (chapters 4 and 5). In that sense, Mandela and Drogba may not be so different after all. As Ambler notes, Africans resisted “the persistent efforts of the colonial states and corporate interests to reorder space in conformity with principles of race and class domination.”38 As several chapters in this volume show, sport has just as much power to bring people together as it does to segregate them. The chapters focusing on southern Africa highlight this the most, as sport has been a highly visible and important point of contention in South Africa, from the late nineteenth century though the apartheid era to today. Sport was simultaneously used both to separate white and black competitors, as described by Zachary R. Bigalke and Tarminder Kaur (chapters 10 and 11), and to break down racial stereotypes and apartheid, as in Gustav Venter’s chapter 7. Sport touched all aspects of South African society, extending even into its prisons, as shown by Hendrik Snyders (chapter 9). Although not touched on in this volume, much work has been done on the international aspects of South Africa’s sporting presence during the twentieth century, as well as the role of Nelson Mandela in using sport as a tool of reconciliation in postapartheid South Africa.39

8 M. Gennaro and S. Aderinto

Masculinity and race Sport provides an interesting lens through which to view gender, especially masculinity. Masculinity, as defined by Lisa Lindsay and Stephan Miescher, refers to “a cluster of norms, values, and behavioral patterns expressing explicit and implicit expectations of how men should act and represent themselves to others.”40 Although the present work does not deal specifically with women and women’s sport—a gap for future scholars to fill—there is some scholarship wherein this is discussed.41 Nevertheless, as masculinity is a constantly shifting and contested ideal, sporting contests literally and physically pit man against man, boy against boy, in contests that mean so much more than winning and losing games. Displaying strength, courage, speed, finesse, tricks, talented moves, and agility are just some of the ways that men perform masculinity through sport. Men’s bodies, through performance and visibility, through success and failure, through physicality and strength, through speed and agility, continually shift the acceptable displays of manhood, while displaying social values through sport. In his recent article on Empire Day, Saheed Aderinto notes that the sporting event during this commemoration that placed children at the center of imperialist celebration “was another site through which salient notion of normative boyhood and girlhood was manifested.” He notes further that “it overtly extolled the male-centeredness of the colonial state.” Colonial practices, which viewed girls as weaker than boys, were reflected in the rigor of the sports in which each gender was allowed to participate at the Empire Day festivities.42 Sport was also a convenient tool for colonizers to claim, with some success, transference of desirable traits to African youth and young men, but it was the men themselves who shaped how, when, and by what means such traits, if any, were transferred. As Gennaro shows in chapter 1, one of the most important and visible ways that men performed their masculine traits was through participation in sports. Once again, European sporting ideals influence this discussion, but only to a limited extent. Africans themselves chose, negotiated, and contested prevailing European ideals, and crafted their own, as Gennaro demonstrates in his study of boxing in Nigeria, and Fair and Lindsay show with regard to football in Zanzibar and Nigeria, respectively.43 As Luise White notes, “the space where masculinity was supposed to be solidly established—in the household, in the kraal, in the palace—[were places] that masculinity was the most contested and the most actively constructed and reconstructed.”44 We would add sporting arenas, fields, stadiums, parks, anywhere that sports are played, to this list of hotly contested spaces for the contestation of masculinity. Masculinity was not, and is not, limited to married men or adults—youths also participate in, embody, and imitate masculinities in any given society. Sport cannot illuminate or describe all masculinities in any society, but it can shed light on the varied and sundry ways that ideals of being and acting like “men” are shaped. If men construct and reconstruct themselves where they live and work, as White argues, then the sporting field, especially after World War II, was a major lived space where men fashioned ideals of manhood.45

Introduction 9

Chapter overview The chapters in this volume are intended to help facilitate or jumpstart a further discussion of the impact of sport on the African continent, both past and present. Although much work needs to be done in this area, and no single edited volume can encompass the experiences of the continent, the works presented here provide engaging inputs and much needed insights—social, economic, and political—on how sport is not far from the hearts and minds of local, provincial, national, and international debates. Sport as a lens provides us with an opportunity to see changing social values, contestations over gender, political imbalances and challenges to authority, creation of national identities, and links to diasporic communities. This volume is divided into two parts: Part I is divided regionally, into West/ Central, Southern, and North/East Africa, while Part II consists of thematic essays on the African diaspora and the international dimensions of sport. Chapters 1–5 focus on West and Central Africa by using football, cricket, dance and gymnastics, and table tennis to illuminate the politicization of sports and the effects of colonialism in terms of discourse and masculinity. In chapter 1, Michael Gennaro focuses on the intersection of ping-pong and urban youth identities in Lagos, Nigeria. The chapter fills a gap in historical knowledge by focusing not on popular colonial-era international sports like football or boxing, but on table tennis. The sport became the site of confrontation between elders and youth in the growing urban landscape of Lagos, as elders believed ping-pong was not a useful sport for crafting men, citizens, or a strong nation. Youths found the game not only fun, but an alternative way to develop qualities like discipline and courage without the muscular development or aggression involved in major sports. Chapter 2 by Danielle Porter Sanchez tackles the ways that colonialism operated through the physical activities of gymnastics and dancing in Brazzaville. Chapter 3 by Joanne Clarke shows how the sport of cricket serves as a lens to view the interesting dynamic whereby Africans experienced, negotiated, and worked through the complicated legacies of imported European sporting traditions and their manifestations in the colonies. This chapter, drawing on anthropological understandings of indigenous knowledge formation, looks at postcolonial Cameroon, and how indigenous discourses of cricket during the colonial era continue to effect Cameroon today. The social and cultural complexities of Cameroon, with its history of German, French, and British colonialism, is a perfect example of how sport mirrors political and social problems; it provides a unique exploration of how the “quintessential English game” influenced a French-dominated African nation.46 Chapters 4 and 5 on postcolonial Ghana focus on how sport functioned and served political objectives for Kwame Nkrumah’s government, as well as the Supreme Military Council after Nkrumah was deposed in 1966. In chapter 4, Kwame Adum-Kyeremeh argues that sport played a central role in Nkrumah’s National Liberation Council, and that the creation of the Central Organization of Sports (COS) not only centralized sport in the new country, but also prepared Ghana for international competitions by streamlining sport from the grassroots to

10 M. Gennaro and S. Aderinto

national teams. Unfortunately, the mismanagement of the COS mirrored the mismanagement of the country as a whole. Chapter 5 by Humphrey Agyekum looks at Ghana’s military junta period, arguing that the Supreme Military Council created the military sports club Super Stars ’74 not only to improve the image of the Ghanaian military, but also to legitimize the regime. Taken together, these two chapters on Ghana showcase and illuminate the various ways that sport was used as a tool for legitimization, internationally and nationally, as well as a political strategy for national unity. Chapters 6 through 11 focus on Southern Africa. In chapter 6, Cody Perkins discusses the topic of masculinity, with a focus on how racial challenges to white sporting segregation and to claims of black physical degeneration were made by appealing to the international sporting success of African American athletes like boxer Joe Louis and track star Jesse Owens. This battle was most pronounced in the South African press, where challenges to white masculine identity (via cricket and rugby) were akin to challenges to white supremacy in society. Chapter 7 by Gustav Venter looks into this segregation of sport along racial lines by focusing on the National Professional Football League (NPFL) in South Africa. Due to international pressures, the NPFL, originally a blacks-only league, integrated more than a decade before the formal ending of apartheid, in one of the first attempts to work through racial mixing on the sports field. The effects were uneven, and teams still were drawn along racial lines, but the example points to the importance of sport within political and economic apartheid. Chapter 8 by Francois Cleophas highlights a very important fact: that the separation of black and white in South Africa was more nuanced, with sectarian divisions within these groups that were reflected in the sporting world as well. The chapter traces the development in Cape Town in the late nineteenth century of sporting clubs, which also acted as social clubs, often segregated based on ethnicity, religion, and class. Chapter 9 by Hendrik Snyders looks at rugby in the 1970s and its place within the political and social lives of the prisoners on Robben Island, the jail for black political prisoners off the coast of Cape Town. The chapter traces the creation of the Island Rugby Board that helped organize the sport for inmates. Rugby on the island thus became a site and source of political agitation that gave important momentum, especially after the release of Nelson Mandela, to the negotiations that delivered the death knell to apartheid. In chapter 10, Zachary Bigalke, almost in dialogue with Cleophas’s chapter, looks at the formation of white national and cultural identity through the creation of the national Springboks rugby team in the early twentieth century. The chapter analyzes the important role the team played in creating a unifying bond between white British and Dutch South Africans just a few years removed from the Anglo–Boer War. The team’s success while on tour in England meant that rugby became entrenched as a pillar of white South African identity, and a symbol of national unity in the years prior to official union in 1910. How the spaces where sporting events took place shaped social and racial identities is the main focus of chapter 11 by Tarminder Kaur. Moving to North and East Africa, chapters 12 and 13 look at the colonial period under British and Italian occupations. Chapter 12 by Christopher Ferraro details the

Introduction 11

relationships between British sporting traditions, their transfer to Egypt, and the creation of football as Egypt’s national sport. The chapter outlines how the sport became infused with nationalistic ideals, which later fueled Egyptian international success as the first African nation to qualify for a FIFA World Cup. In chapter 13, Tamirat Gebremariam and Benoit Gaudin open up a critical discussion of the era of Italian occupation of Ethiopia and the social dynamics of the period. Through the lens of the St. George Sport Club, the chapter argues that despite policies of racial segregation enacted during the occupation, the infrastructure of sport created had a lasting impact, and helped bring nationalism to the surface as a bulwark against fascism. Part II moves the discussion toward aspects of Africa’s participation in globalized sports, starting with Manase Chiweshe’s analysis, in chapter 14, of the failure of football’s commercialization on the African continent despite its success as a billion-dollar industry in Europe. The chapter details the historical factors that have contributed to the current predicament, and makes policy recommendations for the future to reverse this troubling situation. Chapter 15 by Munene Mwaniki also looks at the internationalizing of sport and the African experience, but does so through the example of Nigerian Hakeem Olajuwon, a National Basketball Association (NBA) legend and well-known Muslim, whose career become the site for multiple identities. Olajuwon’s identity as both Muslim and African has not been fully reconciled within US/Western media. Chapter 16 by Shepherd Mpofu sheds light on media coverage by the BBC of the FIFA World Cup in South Africa in 2010, highlighting salient notions of racial stereotypes in the reporting of events in Africa from a Western perspective. This volume raises many significant questions about the role and place of sport on the African continent. A deeper investigation by future scholars is necessary to strengthen our understanding of the various ways that sport intersects and has intersected the myriad of African experiences. Although this volume traces a variety of topics, from race and apartheid, gender and masculinity, colonialism and its legacy, to the formation of nationalism through sport, much work remains for a fuller understanding of the place of sport in Africa.

Notes 1 See the Al Jazeera documentary Didier Drogba and the Ivorian Civil War: How the Former Chelsea Star and Ivory Coast Forward Used the Power of Football to End His Country’s Civil War, March 13, 2014; Alex Hayes, “Didier Drogba Brings Peace to the Ivory Coast,” The Telegraph (August 8, 2007). 2 A video of Drogba’s speech is available at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v= KAW7DF1Ufek. 3 Notable exceptions include Jimoh Shehu, ed., Gender, Sport and Development in Africa: Cross-cultural Perspectives on Patterns of Representations and Marginalization (Dakar: Codesria, 2010); John Bale and Michelle Sikes, eds., Women’s Sport in Africa (London: Routledge, 2015); and Chuka Onwumechili and Gerard Akindes, eds., Identity and Nation in African Football: Fans, Community and Clubs (Basingstoke, UK: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014). 4 Ashwin Desai, ed., The Race to Transform: Sport in Post-Apartheid South Africa (Cape Town: HSRC Press, 2010); Scarlett Cornelissen and A.M. Grundlingh, eds., Sport Past and Present in South Africa: (Trans)forming the Nation (New York: Routledge, 2012); Marion Keim, Nation Building at Play: Sport as a Tool for Social Integration in Post-Apartheid

12 M. Gennaro and S. Aderinto

5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

13 14

15 16 17 18 19 20

21 22

23 24

South Africa (Oxford: Meyer & Meyer Sport, 2003). Notable exceptions include John Nauright, Sport, Cultures, and Identities in South Africa (Cape Town: David Philip, 1998); and Bruce K. Murray and Christopher Edmond Merrett, Caught Behind: Race and Politics in Springbok Cricket (Johannesburg: Wits University Press, 2004). John Nauright, “Global Games: Culture, Political Economy and Sport in the Globalized World of the 21st Century,” Third World Quarterly 25, no. 7 (2004): 1325–36. Olusegun Obasa, “Sports and the Modernity of Leisure in Nigeria: Stadium Space and the Symbolism of Expressions, 1930–1980” (PhD diss., University of Texas at Austin, 2015), 4. Susan Brady, “The Intersections of Sport History and Sport Literature: Toward a Transdisciplinary Perspective,” International Journal of the History of Sport 33, no. 14 (2016): 1581. Susann Baller and Scarlett Cornelissen, “Introduction: Sport, Leisure and Consumption in Africa,” International Journal of the History of Sport 30, no. 16 (2013): 1870. Emmanuel Akyeampong and Charles Ambler, “Leisure in African History: An Introduction,” International Journal of African Historical Studies 35, no. 1 (2002): 1. Ibid., 1–2. Phyllis Martin, Leisure and Society in Colonial Brazzaville (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 96. Ibid., 1–3. See, for example, Michael Gennaro, “‘The Whole Place Is in Pandemonium’: Dick Tiger versus Gene Fullmer in 1963 and the Consumption of Boxing and Sport in Nigeria,” International Journal of the History of Sport 30, no. 16 (2013): 1903–14; and Tyler Fleming, “‘Now the African Reigns Supreme’: The Rise of African Boxing on The Witwatersrand, 1924–1959,” International Journal of the History of Sport 28, no. 1 (2011): 47–62. Charles Ambler, “Writing African Leisure History,” in Leisure in Urban Africa, ed. Paul Tiyambe Zeleza and Cassandra Rachel Veney (Trenton, NJ: Africa World Press, 2003), 12–18. Baller and Cornelissen, “Sport, Leisure and Consumption,” 1868. For citizenship see Michael Gennaro, “Nigeria in the Ring: Boxing, Masculinity, and Empire in Nigeria, 1930–1957” (PhD diss., University of Florida, 2016). For work discipline see Martin, Leisure and Society; and Laura Fair, Pastimes and Politics: Culture, Community, and Identity in Post-Abolition Urban Zanzibar, 1890–1945 (Athens: Ohio University Press, 2001). Anthony Clayton, “Sport and African Soldiers: The Military Diffusion of Western Sport throughout Sub-Saharan Africa,” in Sport in Africa: Essays in Social History, ed. William Baker and J.A. Mangan (New York: Africana Publishing, 1987). H.F.S. Huntington, “The Physical and Ethical Value of Boxing,” Royal United Services Institution Journal 65, no. 459 (1920): 493–501. Clayton, “Sport and African Soldiers.” Roy Ankrah, My Life Story (Accra: West African Graphic Co., 1952). Ibid. Lisa A. Lindsay, “Putting the Family on Track: Gender and Domestic Life on the Colonial Nigerian Railway” (PhD diss., University of Michigan, 1996), 315. See also “Football Scandal in the Railway,” West African Pilot [hereafter cited as WAP] (April 12, 1948); and “No Railway Football Scandal,” WAP (April 20, 1948). Lisa A. Lindsay, “Trade Unions and Football Clubs: Gender and the ‘Modern’ Public Sphere in Colonial Southwestern Nigeria,” in Leisure in Urban Africa, ed. Paul Tiyambe Zeleza and Cassandra Rachel Veney (Trenton, NJ: Africa World Press, 2003), 106. Modern sport refers to the sports associated with the games revolution that arose in Britain in the nineteenth century, when the sporting tastes of those in Europe changed from brutalist pastimes like cock fighting and bull baiting to games recently invented like football, rugby, and tennis. See J.A. Mangan, Pleasure, Profit, Proselytism: British Culture and Sport at Home and Abroad, 1700–1914 (London: Frank Cass, 1988). Baller and Cornelissen, “Sport, Leisure and Consumption,” 1869. Anthony Kirk-Greene, “Imperial Administration and the Atlantic Imperative: The Case of the District Officer in Africa,” in Sport in Africa: Essays in Social History, ed. William Baker and J.A. Mangan (New York: Africana Publishing, 1987), 138.

Introduction 13

25 James Mangan, “Ethics and Ethnocentricity: Imperial Education in British Tropical Africa,” in Baker and Mangan, Sport in Africa. See also Paul Thompson, “Schools, Sport and Britishness: Young White Natal, 1902–1961,” South African Historical Journal 1, no. 45 (2001): 223–48. 26 J.A. Mangan, “The Education of an Elite Imperial Administration: The Sudan Political Service and the British Public School System,” International Journal of African Historical Studies 15, no. 4 (1982): 672–3; Kirk-Greene, “Imperial Administration and the Atlantic Imperative.” See also Gennaro, “Nigeria in the Ring.” 27 Kirk-Greene, “Imperial Administration and the Atlantic Imperative.” 28 Mangan, “Ethics and Ethnocentricity”; Martin, Leisure and Society. 29 See, for example, Martin, Leisure and Society. 30 Ibid., 96. 31 George Harvey Sage, Globalizing Sport: How Organizations, Corporations, Media, and Politics Are Changing Sports (Boulder, CO: Paradigm, 2010); Cornell Edison Foo, An Examination of International Student Athletes Traveling to the United States to Play College Sport (Gainesville: University of Florida, 2013); John Bale and Joseph A. Maguire, eds., The Global Sports Arena: Athletic Talent Migration in an Interdependent World (London: Frank Cass, 1994). 32 John Bale, The Brawn Drain: Foreign Student-Athletes in American Universities (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1991). 33 Sine Agergaard and Vera Botelho, “The Way Out?: African Players’ Migration to Scandinavian Women’s Football,” Sport in Society 17, no. 4 (2014): 523. 34 Obasa, “Sports and the Modernity of Leisure,” 13. 35 Ejikeme also argues that Bassey to this day is the only national icon Nigeria has ever had. See Anene Ejikeme, “Hogan ‘Kid’ Bassey: Nigerian Icon,” in Emerging Themes and Methods in African Studies, ed. Toyin Falola and Adam Paddock (Trenton, NJ: Africa World Press, 2008), 444. 36 Invictus (Warner Brothers, 2010), dir. Clint Eastwood; The 16th Man (ESPN Home Entertainment, 2010), dir. Clifford Bestall; John Carlin, Playing the Enemy: Nelson Mandela and the Game that Made a Nation (New York: Penguin Press, 2008). 37 Speech by Nelson Mandela at the Inaugural Laureus Lifetime Achievement Award, Monaco 2000, transcript found at http://db.nelsonmandela.org/speeches/pub_view.asp? pg=item&ItemID=NMS1148. 38 Ambler, “Writing African Leisure History,” 12. 39 Lebogang Morodi, “The Reconstruction, Development and Transformation of South African Diversified Society through Sport: Cherished Ideals of Nelson Mandela and their Challenges,” International Journal of Sport and Society 2, no. 3 (2011): 11–20; Goolam Vahed and Ashwin Desai, “The Coming of Nelson and the Ending of Apartheid Cricket?: Gatting’s Rebels in South Africa, 1990,” International Journal of the History of Sport 33, no. 15 (2016): 1786–1807; Carlin, Playing the Enemy. 40 Lisa A. Lindsay and Stephan Miescher, eds., Men and Masculinities in Modern Africa (Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann, 2003), 4. 41 See, for example, Michelle Sikes, “Print Media and the History of Women’s Sport in Africa: The Kenyan Case of Barriers to International Achievement,” History in Africa: A Journal of Method 43 (2016): 323. 42 Saheed Aderinto, “Empire Day in Africa: Patriotic Colonial Childhood, Imperial Spectacle, and Nationalism in Nigeria, 1905–1960,” Journal of Imperial and Commonwealth History 46, no.4 (2018): 478–500. 43 Gennaro, “Nigeria in the Ring”; Fair, Pastimes and Politics; Lindsay, “Trade Unions and Football Clubs.” 44 Luise White, afterword, in Men and Masculinities in Modern Africa, ed. Lisa A. Lindsay and Stephan Miescher (Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann, 2003), 250. 45 Ibid., 251. 46 See chapter 3 by Joanne Clarke in this volume.

1 “I WAS REALLY DISGUSTED AT SEEING HEALTHY YOUNG BOYS PLAYING PING-PONG” Ping-pong and masculinity in post-World War II Nigeria Michael Gennaro Introduction For British and Nigerian elites, the post-World War II period saw an increased fear about young men (aged 8–24) in the colony—specifically, concerns over their lack of schooling, their poor work ethic, their supposed penchant for criminality (or juvenile delinquency), and their lack of proper ideals of manhood. Many believed that the future of an independent Nigeria rested on the ability of this upcoming generation to lead the colony toward independence. However, fears over various aspects of young men’s lives permeated society, creating a crisis of manhood. Many articles and columns in local newspapers commented on how this postwar generation was at risk of failing to deliver independence since they had not been taught to be proper citizens, they were not becoming proper men, and their schooling did not produce leadership skills. As the quote in the chapter title suggests, even the choice of sport by youths was questioned according to its usefulness in forming men.1 In partial response to these concerns, Nigeria’s colonial government hired sub-Saharan Africa’s first social welfare officer, Donald Faulkner, to tackle the crisis of juvenile delinquency.2 Faulkner’s actions had a noticeable impact beyond criminal activities. He started the Boys’ Club movement, and its rapid spread across Lagos and then later Nigeria had a profound impact on the sporting infrastructure of the colony, especially the introduction of an unlikely sport like ping-pong (table tennis).3 By 1955, “Nigerian sport was to reap the greatest benefit” of the Boys’ Club movement as the sporting activities at the clubs “overshadowed” all other activities.4 Post-World War II Nigeria saw the proliferation of sporting leagues, sporting clubs, and sporting infrastructure. While a lot of scholarly attention has been given to the growth of sports like football (soccer) and boxing in terms of nationalism and masculinity, little work has been done on the foundation of Boys’ Clubs and one of the clubs’ most entertaining and popular pastimes for urban youth of the era: ping-pong.5

Ping-pong and masculinity in Nigeria 15

Football and boxing were undoubtedly the colony’s most popular sports; both were considered necessary for youth growing up in the city to learn values of hard work, discipline, healthy living, teamwork, and character—all understood as necessary to make proper men.6 In other words, mastery of sport in the growing urban landscape of Lagos was necessary to becoming not only gentlemen, but also productive citizens ready for independence and democracy.7 With the creation of Boys’ Clubs in Nigeria in the late 1940s, boxing and football were central to the clubs’ activities because of these sports’ supposed ability to craft men and useful citizens through the creation of leagues, competitions, championships, trophies, and of course, camaraderie. But the same cannot be said of ping-pong. Ping-pong became a site of confrontation between Nigerian elders and youths over conceptions of proper and desired manhood. For elders, ping-pong did not encourage “the manly attitude,” “self-control,” or “social graces” that other sports like boxing and football could provide.8 As whites and Nigerian elders espoused one type of sporting citizen—what I call “muscular citizenship,” best exemplified by participation in boxing and football—youth in the colony developed their own masculinity in conjunction with, and at times in opposition to, dominant forms of masculinity. This chapter will look at the history of ping-pong in the colony with a focus on Lagos, the ethos of sport in Nigeria after World War II, and how youths in the city used table tennis as an alternative to the “muscular citizenship” espoused by white colonial officials, British companies, and Nigerian elders and elites.9 As the first scholarly work on ping-pong in Africa, this chapter breaks new ground by looking at youth, leisure, and masculinity outside of labor by focusing on the ways that youths navigated post–World War II urban Africa through sport.

Post-World War II Nigeria Ping-pong, like most other colonial sports in Nigeria, first became popular in Lagos. Later it spread throughout the colony as leagues in Lagos expanded and a national championship was developed. Like other sub-Saharan African cities, Lagos grew exponentially after the war. In fact, due to the demobilization of soldiers and hinterland migration, Lagos’s population increased from 126,000 in 1931 to more than 230,000 by mid-century.10 As Akin Mabogunje observed, the constant flow from the hinterland was predominantly male, helping make Lagos a male-dominated city well into the 1950s.11 The return to normal affairs after the war, combined with the preexisting sporting culture of urban Lagos and the spread of print media, meant that sport took a more pronounced role in the social lives of Lagosians. There were several reasons for this. First and foremost, sport was fun. Second, many former soldiers wanted to continue playing sports they had learned in the armed forces, especially boxing and football. Soldiers who returned from the war came home with a new outlook on life and a demand for social status and entertainment, like sports.12 Third, many men who became gainfully employed encountered businesses like the United Africa Company or Costain that actively promoted sports clubs for its employees. Lastly, men found sport to be an acceptable medium to display their masculinity in public through skill, speed, strength, and character.

16 M. Gennaro

For the colonial state, the end of the war and the need to maximize the output of the colonies for the reconstruction of Britain required a more intense intervention into the daily lives of Africans, the so-called second colonial occupation. After the war, as Toyin Falola argues, colonial policy changed to favor more development and social welfare.13 This included attempts to control family structure, leisure spaces, and social clubs.14 After the 1945 strike wave across sub-Saharan Africa, colonial governments sought solutions to curb the politicization of single men, by intervening more directly to control their social lives, in an attempt to prevent their becoming a political nuisance. While others have looked into the various ways that colonial governments intervened in the working lives of Nigerians, little research has been done on the social intervention of the British in the lives of Nigerians, and especially of young, unmarried men and boys, vis-à-vis sports.15 The colonial state sought to dispel “excess energies” created by a large population of males in urban spaces, and saw sport as an acceptable outlet for such pent-up energies.16 Moreover, sport was also an excellent teacher of the skills and traits that the British believed had built their powerful empire, like “character,” “pluck,” discipline, teamwork, hard work, and courage—all of which were, at the time, thought to flow naturally from participation in sport.17 These were not innate traits passed down genetically, but were learned through the ethos of sport, taught in British schools for more than a century.18 The war had fostered a new rhetoric promoting healthy men as hard workers and good citizens. By the end of the war, sporting prowess, masculinity, and health became intertwined and were seen as a remedy for the problem of effeminate men in Nigeria.19 As schoolchildren, youths passing through British schools were inculcated into the ethos of sport, and this type of sport-centered schooling made its way to Nigeria, with its internal, house-separated sports structure later adopted by Nigerian schools. Sport taught lessons neglected by in-class school curricula, like leadership, courage, “character,” and teamwork. Boys at schools in Lagos were directed into sports that, as Saheed Aderinto notes, “emphasized self-assertion, physical play, and prowess.”20 More importantly, sports opened doors socially and professionally, as a “good sport” was also seen as a good employee. This explains why a disproportionate number of British athletes staffed the British colonial civil service, not to mention the Nigerians who later staffed the colony’s civil service. J.A. Mangan and Anthony Kirk-Greene have both shown that the ethos of British sport was at the heart of the selection of British administrators for imperial posts, and that the selection of British personnel for the colonies or companies was determined by their success at school sports.21 Moreover, sporting men, because of the health benefits of sport, were seen as more readily able to survive the tropical heat,” which was at the heart of colonial labor problems.22 As the colonial government took a more intrusive position in the social lives of colonial subjects, sport became a central plank for the government, companies, and the churches to aid in the creation of Nigerian citizens, gentlemen, and workers. Physical education was central to this objective, as described frequently in Nigerian newspapers. For example, an article in the Daily Service in 1953 remarked, “Physical Education aims at inculcating in the individual a sound mental, moral, and physical alertness which qualities combine to make the ideal citizen.”23 It went on to

Ping-pong and masculinity in Nigeria 17

note that “the social attributes of good leadership and a sense of fair play, resourcefulness, self-awareness, courage and daring are best developed through the medium of physical education; physical education affords the finest opportunity for teaching the meanings and practices of democracy.”24 Sport was more than merely a leisurely pastime. Sport, for the British and later educated Nigerians, was the pathway to creating a desirable citizenry, and a more full and balanced democracy.25 Moreover, these qualities developed through sport were also benchmarks for what the British, and later Nigerians, used to determine aspects of the ideal man, ideas of manliness, and conceptions of masculinity as the colony made its way toward independence in 1960. And in addition to these reasons for the post-war increase in sporting infrastructure, sports flourished in that period because Nigerians found them to be fun. More than fun, though, sport was a place to win fame and fortune, display masculinity, and create social connections. This explains why football and boxing flourished, but how do we account for ping-pong’s rise in stature when it was so unlike the more aggressive sports?

History of Ping-pong in the colony The growth of ping-pong in Nigeria coincided with the rapid expansion of the Boys’ Club movement that swept through the colony after World War II. As the clubs were linked by a common purpose, sponsored by the government, and backed by the various communities that housed them, Boys’ Clubs became sporting hubs where interclub sports and tournaments helped spur amateur sports. As I note elsewhere, the clubs were created by sub-Saharan Africa’s first social welfare officer, Donald Faulkner, who used the spread of clubs as a stopgap measure for the perceived growth of crime and juvenile delinquency plaguing Lagos.26 As the Nigerian Daily Times remarked in an article entitled “Youth Clubs Can Build a Nation!,” the Boys’ Clubs’ “aims and objects are the training of the youths to become healthy, happy, useful and responsible citizens. These are achieved through play, hobbies, community living and adventure.”27 This observation shows the importance of sport to the strength and success of a young nation, as well as its role in the development of boys to men. Moreover, sport and citizenship went hand in hand. As the Times boasted in 1950, “These clubs have played no small part in moulding the characters of young citizens for good.”28 The main purpose of the clubs was to occupy young boys’ leisure time, leading to useful pursuits, chief among which (according to many boys) was access to sports.29 Faulkner believed in the efficacy of sport to transform troubled young men into prosperous and useful citizens and men.30 But the clubs also served nontroubled boys and young men. Each club came complete with a boxing club; in fact, boxing for Faulkner was one of the main activities to teach discipline, respect, and hard work to troubled youngsters, and he made sure that each club had boxing as an activity. It is less well known that the Boys’ Clubs were among the first places to promote ping-pong, along with such companies as United Africa Company and

18 M. Gennaro

Costain. By 1951, Lagos had over 40 clubs, with more than 5,000 boys between 12 and 25 years of age attending on a weekly basis.31 While Faulkner set up the first Boys’ Clubs, he was aided by others in setting up and maintaining clubs across Lagos, men like Jack Farnsworth. Farnsworth was head of two clubs, as well as the chairman of the Colony Sports Committee for Boys’ Clubs, which meant that he was in charge of promoting, planning, and organizing many of the sports for the Boys’ Clubs across Lagos for most of the 1950s. It comes as no surprise that, with his background and love for ping-pong, the game became another central plank of the Boys’ Club experience. In fact, the first Boys’ Club, Kakawa, run by Faulkner, had one of the first official-sized ping-pong tables in the colony.32 The foundation for ping-pong in Nigeria can be traced in large part to the organizational efforts of one man, Englishman Jack Farnsworth. Farnsworth, like so many British men who came to work in Africa, was a sporting man through his schooling years, gaining full colors in hockey and half colors in cricket and football.33 He was posted to South Africa before the war, and it was there that he learned to play and to love ping-pong. He became so good that he represented the Transvaal against a visiting Hungarian team.34 Farnsworth came to Nigeria in 1948, having served with the merchant navy during the war. There he continued to play ping-pong throughout his years of service.35 He took a position as an insurance salesman with British East and West Africa Corporation and was stationed in Lagos, but he made sure to bring ping-pong with him. Farnsworth was renowned in Lagos, not so much for his work as an insurance agent, but rather for his tireless work promoting, planning, and organizing sporting events across the city. His love for sports was well known in Lagos, as he was seen most nights of the week organizing, setting up, tearing down, refereeing, coaching, and training for any and all sports, including boxing, football, and table tennis. More than that, by the mid-1950s he had a weekly sports radio show on which he detailed and discussed the Lagosian sporting scene, and also wrote frequently for Lagosian newspapers under the pen-name “Sportsman.”36 As the Nigerian Daily Times remarked in 1954, Farnsworth was responsible for ping-pong remaining “a national sport in Nigeria,” as “evidenced by the position the game now occupies” in the colony.37 Significant for this history was Farnsworth’s association with Donald Faulkner and the Boys’ Club movement. Farnsworth was instrumental in setting up ping-pong leagues for the Boys’ Clubs. He was also the editor of the Young Nigeria journal, the official publication of the Boys’ Clubs.38 Farnsworth was even known to the local members as “Baba Boy’s Clubs,” meaning “Father of the Boys’ Clubs.”39 As the Daily Service described him, “Mr. Farnsworth’s colossal contribution to the welfare of Nigerian youths is common knowledge and his support of the boys’ clubs in all their various activities, both morally and financially, has always been unstinted.”40 The Nigerian Daily Times observed, “take a peep at an athletic competition, whether big or small, and you will find one tall and cheerful man always carrying the stop watch—he is Farnsworth … he is a father [to the boys].”41 One of the first things that Farnsworth set up on being posted to Nigeria was the Lagos District Table Tennis Association, of which he served as chairman for

Ping-pong and masculinity in Nigeria 19

most of the 1950s. As the sport grew in various locales beyond Lagos, efforts to bring together the various outposts of ping-pong, like Kano, Kaduna, and Port Harcourt, led to the creation of the Nigerian Table Tennis Association (NTTA) in 1951. Farnsworth found himself elected to chair the NTTA.42 The reasons for founding a centralizing national organization were to make the rules of table tennis uniform throughout the colony, including such mundane things as which size ball would be considered official, and to determine a real, sanctioned Nigerian table tennis champion. Just before Farnsworth went on leave in 1954, the Daily Service wanted all local sportsmen to come to a farewell boxing tournament in his honor. “It is hoped that all boys and sports lovers in general will seize this opportunity to make the occasion a success and show their appreciation to one who has always put the thought of welfare of our boys uppermost in his mind.”43 In fact, as the Nigerian Daily Times said, Farnsworth “has endeared himself to thousands of the people in this country.”44 The West African Pilot described him as “one of the most outstanding sportsmen in Nigeria today.”45 The newspaper called him “a worthy comrade, a reputable sports organizer, a lover of youth, a respectable gentleman and a really ‘good sport.’”46 More than being like a father to the boys, Farnsworth was a father to the sport, as proclaimed in 1953: “the name of Farnsworth would be associated with table tennis in Nigeria and the Gold Coast for a long, long time.”47 Ping-pong tournaments were a regular feature in Lagos as early as 1949.48 While Boys’ Clubs were a central part of this history, there were many clubs outside the movement that also participated. Table tennis events attracted large crowds, often reported as 500 or more spectators packed in close to watch the fast-paced action, with fans often “at a fever pitch.”49 For example, such a crowd saw the Olowogbowo Flashlight Club defeat Isale-Eko in November 1949, eleven games to nine.50 In fact, the paper reported that the club was packed to capacity, forcing late spectators to either climb trees or stand on cars to get a glimpse of the action.51 The umpire for this tournament, and many more, was none other than Jack Farnsworth. Farnsworth used his status in the Boys’ Clubs to spread ping-pong through the various youth clubs. As the Daily Times noted in 1955, “Table Tennis brings boys together” and “the table tennis game has followed the spread of the Boys’ Clubs movement in Nigeria.”52 Moreover, it was a popular night out for Lagosians to watch ping-pong tournaments, which were held on well-known sporting holidays like Empire Day in May and Boxing Day in December.53 Farnsworth’s tireless work in promoting and organizing ping-pong was noted and appreciated by Nigerians. “His invaluable pioneer work in bringing the game of Table Tennis to stay as a national sport in Nigeria is evidenced by the popularity of the game within a short period.”54 With Farnsworth’s efforts, ping-pong exploded in popularity in Nigeria. By 1955, monthly table tennis tournaments were held around Lagos, attracting a large crowd and participation from young boys and men.55 In the newspapers, ping-pong players were frequently pictured and were referred to often as sports stars, in many cases known throughout the colony by their first names.56 Building on the popularity of ping-pong, news

20 M. Gennaro

reports were almost a daily feature when the sport was in season. The Daily Times in mid-1955 reported that “if you pass through the nooks and corners of Lagos, your ears will be assailed by the incessant ‘knack-knack’ of the white celluloid [ping-pong] ball … today, table tennis has become established as the most popular indoor game among the youths of this country.”57 Many of the reports seemingly expressed shock that such a game was so popular in the city. It could be played indoors during the rainy season and still provide a workout. It was also something that could be played at home—brothers and sisters, it was noted, could use the dining room table, a ball, and some makeshift paddles.58 Unlike tennis, which required access to courts that were often reserved for the wealthier members of Nigerian society, and which was seen as more of a white and female game well into the 1950s, table tennis was open to all, so long as one had a table and some paddles, or access to a Boys’ Club. This wide accessibility, along with growing youth and sporting cultures, allowed ping-pong to succeed as a viable sporting endeavor among the youth of the colony. The Boys’ Clubs were not the only places for young men to play ping-pong. Several companies in the Lagos area also purchased tables for their employees. This was done for several reasons. First, building on the colonial government’s intervention into the social lives of subjects, companies also were complicit in the postwar creation of “industrial man” by trying to control their employees’ social lives. Doing so, it was thought, would prevent dangerous gatherings of employees beyond the watchful eye of employers. Having sporting teams, sport clubs, and social clubs on company property and supported by the company was one way to prevent employees from becoming “politicized.” Second, many of these companies had European employees who wanted to create such clubs so that they could play their favorite sports on the company dime, and needed African employees to round out teams since there were never enough Europeans for whites-only competitions. For example, in the early 1950s, Mr. D. McKay of the Department of Education, himself a former Essex County ping-pong player back home in Britain, would coach young aspiring Nigerians in the sport, usually at the Medical Headquarters or at one of the tables in the schools under his supervision.59 Also, Farnsworth was known to play at the BEWAC tables in the late 1940s, dispensing both coaching tips and friendly competition.60 Lastly, companies that had sporting facilities and clubs were more likely to attract the educated employees that they desired. As companies began to use sport as a way to discipline their workforces, employees came to expect that their places of work would have such facilities for them. Although many thought of table tennis as a child’s game or only for young men, it was in fact thoroughly integrated into the social fabric not only of many large companies but in civil service employment spaces as well. Clubs could be found at fire departments, police stations, and railways. The sport’s most visible adherents were no doubt the youths who frequented the Boys’ Clubs, but as these young men grew up and entered the workforce, the game of ping-pong followed them as well, becoming a staple at major companies like the United Africa Company. Viewed in this light, table tennis was not so much a youth or boys’ game, but a modern sport highlighting the new opportunities provided by the urban environment.

Ping-pong and masculinity in Nigeria 21

Like other sports such as football and boxing, the sport thrived in places, companies, and locales where there was an “old” sportsman, European or African, who took the time to coach, train, or donate cups or shields to be used as awards for competitions. Having personally been a former athlete in table tennis, and realizing how important the sport had been to their individual development, prompted many to promote the sport for those coming after them. For example, Lagos’s first mayor, Dr. Ibiyinka Olorun-Nimbe, upon taking up his post in 1950, set out almost immediately to donate a cup for table tennis.61 The Silver Cup, later called the Mayor’s Cup Competition, became an annual competition for singles play. Olorun-Nimbe donated the cup because “it is understood that the mayor, in his student days, was no mean player of the game and it is not surprising, therefore, that his first acknowledgement of sport is a game which must have given him considerable enjoyment in his younger days.”62 As was common at the time, those elites and educated Nigerians followed the British custom of donating trophies, cups, and shields to sports that they had participated in as youths, sports that they believed had helped “shape” them into men.63 Moreover, having the patronage of important men was a prerequisite for sport in Nigeria, as was done in Britain. Having important persons serve as patrons of clubs or donate trophies, cups, or shields added legitimacy to the sport. For these reasons, then, it was no wonder that ping-pong became such a popular sport among the youth of Nigeria. As the Daily Times remarked in 1955, the popularity of the sport, “particularly by teen-agers, is beyond comparison. In some cases interest borders on love and insatiable affection.”64

Recognition and newspapers Boys and young men flocked to ping-pong in part because of the fame it could provide, which included one’s picture in the newspaper and mention on radio broadcasts about sport. One of the first heroes of ping-pong in the colony was Chinwuba. He was part of the Atomic Club Table Tennis team in the late 1940s and 1950s. He also represented Nigeria in its very first intercolonial match in 1951, against the Gold Coast. Chinwuba was a local hero and well known in Nigeria, so much so that he was for several years considered one of the best athletes in the colony. In the early 1950s, Chinwuba was often a finalist in Nigeria’s “Sportsman of the Year” selection, an award that regularly had between five and ten total finalists from sports like football, boxing, and athletics. .65 Moreover, he was not the only ping-pong player who was up for the award, as several players contested for the prize in the 1950s. Chinwuba was given special mention in 1953 as “one of the seven best Sportsmen who had done outstanding service to Nigerian Sports during 1952.”66 Chinwuba was the first star of ping-pong in the colony, and since he was a grown, employed man and not a young boy, his exploits reached beyond youth and gave legitimacy to the sport at a time when it was seen by many as a wasteful youth exercise. No longer was it a sport just for youngsters and kids. Chinwuba became the face of ping-pong in the colony, winning the annual Red Cross

22 M. Gennaro

tournament four years in a row from 1951 to 1954, as well as captaining the Nigerian national team that faced off against the Gold Coast for several years in the 1950s.67 Chinwuba was regularly pictured in the newspapers, often holding one of the various trophies, cups, or shields that he won. For many up and comers, their dream was to beat Chinwuba, and when they did, it solidified their ascension into the echelons of local sports. By 1955, table tennis was established as a legitimate sport. Those men and boys who played found within it a different avenue to stardom and fandom through sport, or in other words, a different way to showcase their masculinity outside the established sports of boxing or football. One example was Liadi Ademola “Young” Alli, who won the 1955 Red Cross Table Tennis Cup for singles at the age of 22, defeating Chinwuba in the finals, something he had yet to accomplish over several years. Alli, like many young boys and men, had joined a Boys’ Club (Faji Boys’ Club) in 1951 and took an immediate liking to ping-pong. When asked why he started playing, Alli answered that he “found it to be less strenuous than either boxing or football”68—revealing much about how an alternate masculinity was challenging the dominant masculinity. Alli’s response demonstrated that while all boys might have wanted to emulate popular sports stars like soccer player Teslim “Thunder” Balogun or boxing’s Empire featherweight champion Hogan “Kid” Bassey, many recognized that they in fact were not strong enough, fast enough, or skilled enough in the dominant sports of the colony. Ping-pong offered an alternative to boys who could not compete in those sports and provided an avenue to fame and prestige denied by their size or skill in more aggressive pursuits. Initially in the 1950s, the popularity of boxing and football, and the strenuous nature of the sports themselves, produced a primary avenue for showcasing masculine sporting ideals of young men to other men, as well as to women and society at large. The example of Alli highlights another trajectory. Not all boys were meant to become boxers or soccer players, and ping-pong allowed for those not as big, strong, or fast for the “strenuous” sports, and thus for muscular masculinity, a pathway toward local fame, fortune, and travel. It allowed them to showcase their skill and join the ranks of sportsmen, an attainment so crucial to being considered a proper gentleman, citizen, or man in post-World War II Nigeria.

Elders’ response As the title of this chapter shows, the response by elders to young men playing pingpong was typically one of disgust. In their eyes, table tennis was not a strenuous activity that focused on strength, stamina, and aggression like football and boxing. Rather, ping-pong’s detractors did not see the health benefits from supposedly standing in place and hitting a ball with paddles, and thus likened the pastime to a less intense form of lawn tennis. Lawn tennis was seen as less strenuous, a more “social” sport that did not “stimulate competition, stress development of sporting skills, or strive for excellence.”69 Thus it was perfect for socializing women and older white colonial men, but not young boys and men in need of the values sport provided. Part

Ping-pong and masculinity in Nigeria 23

of the reasoning dated back to long-held Victorian beliefs that less strenuous sports were a socializing activity for women, because too much exercise would disrupt their child-bearing capacity and foster muscular bodies, which would make them less attractive.70 With increased attention to the shaping of young men into muscular citizens, lawn tennis was not considered an important pastime for male youths. In fact, it was not even one of the sports listed among the Boys’ Clubs’ annual activities. Lawn tennis, and table tennis by association, was thus not acceptable for healthy young men to participate in because it would neither dispel their pent-up energies, nor teach them character traits like leadership, courage, and pluck that were understood to be inculcated through boxing and football. Ping-pong and tennis were sports for socializing. To make matters worse, the former was played primarily indoors, thus linking it to childhood play or the sphere of domestic women’s activity.71 Another point of contention was that ping-pong, like tennis, was a good sport for “gossiping,” or in other words, a woman’s domain. Gossiping was seen as a feminine trait, and thus for impressionable young boys and men to participate in a sport that allowed for gossiping was not praiseworthy. Sports were supposed to highlight a man’s courage, strength, and determination on the field of play. Ping-pong, in the view of many elders, was too stationary a game and did not require the necessary output of energy or strength required to create men. For many elders, the sport involved too much waiting and idle time and did not develop strong men. Since most clubs had only one table to use, those not playing were seen sitting and talking while watching, and thus engaging in the dreaded gossiping so feared by elders. It did not help that women also played table tennis and were active in the sport. In fact, part of the yearly tournament to choose Lagos’s champions was a mixed-gender match.72 Part of the attraction for tournaments was to have husbands play against wives during intermissions. At a tournament at Ijebu in 1955, a married woman defeated her husband two games to one in “one of the real successes of the afternoon.”73 But the very fact that women could at times defeat men was another point of contention, further proof that the sport could hardly differentiate between men and women, let alone men and men. Religious reasons, such as disapproval of Sunday sports, also played a part in many elders’ responses to ping-pong. Sunday sports ran counter to the religious belief that Sunday was to be a day of rest, and that anyone who played sports on a Sunday was sinning. Although many other nations had abandoned the ban on Sunday sports meetings by the mid-1950s, Nigeria still had a ban on certain sports. Ping-pong was not one of those banned sports; as such, it faced the ire of the religious community.74 Watching or participating in sport on a Sunday, claimed Babs Olu Ogunbanke, was not a problem for youths since sports like table tennis did not interfere with worship services and prayer. In his view, so long as a boy or man devoted himself to God, then a “man’s holiness does not abound in the number of hours he keeps in church on Sunday.”75 For youths in the city, the most popular Sunday sport was Ping-pong, and many youths crowded around tables to watch their favorite sportsmen play.

24 M. Gennaro

Experiences of youth and Ping-pong As others have shown, at any given time, there are multiple masculinities present in a society, competing and interacting with one another.76 I have detailed elsewhere the creation, formation, and rise of “muscular citizenship,” where the traits of being a good citizen were tied to bodily power, muscular physique, and sporting prowess as illustrated by the example of boxing in Nigeria, one of the preindependence period’s most popular sports.77 However, this was not the only masculinity to grow in the colony at the time. I also detailed another masculinity, which I called the “bachelor sub-culture of masculinity,” that also arose and partly fed into muscular citizenship. In tandem with these arose another postwar form of manliness that also focused on sport, but that was less concerned with muscle building, power, and strength, but with speed, agility, quickness, and “flash.” This alternate masculinity is found in the example of ping-pong, toward which another group of young men—those denied access to muscular masculinity because of their smaller size, stature, and musculature, and their lack of skill in “physical” sports like football and boxing—gravitated. And like those footballers and boxers, they also became local and international stars in Nigeria. The youths who played ping-pong did so for several reasons. First, it was fun. Historians at times need to look no further than the enjoyment of activities as a reason for play. Ping-pong was surely enjoyable, and thus for many youths the ping-pong table was a popular space in which to gather and converse. Further, ping-pong was seen as a modern form of entertainment and sport by urban youth, something that they equated with being modern men. As was the case with boxing, youths growing up in the city looked for local heroes to idolize, a reality made more prevalent with the growing newspaper culture of Lagos in the 1950s. Table tennis players were regularly featured in the newspapers, with pictures and stories describing their play, style, and successes. As fame became a major catalyst for participation in boxing, it was also the case for ping-pong. Sports like boxing and football require a different set of skills, where players’ size, strength, and speed determine success. Ping-pong was an alternative avenue to fame wherein one did not have to be the biggest, strongest, and fastest, or to hit the hardest. Ping-pong allowed smaller young boys and men a space to compete and achieve fame by defeating larger, stronger boys and men in a society that valorized muscles, strength, and sporting prowess. Elite ping-pong players dazzled opponents and spectators with their ability to spin the ball in different directions, eliciting nicknames like “wizard,” “Maestro,” and “magician” for those players who were top performers. Like other sporting men in the colony, ping-pong players also took nicknames. As I have detailed elsewhere, boxers took nicknames to showcase their strength, skill, and sporting prowess.78 Ping-pong was no different as many young men adopted nicknames to gain recognition of their skill and stature, epithets like “Cutting Wizard,” “Small Montana,” “Tall Popular,” “Sultan,” “Taj Mahal,” and “Smashing.”79 The names show the various ways that the boys wanted to be seen

Ping-pong and masculinity in Nigeria 25

by others, and are a mix of myriad social influences of the time: from cowboy films (Small Montana) to athletic skills (Cutting Wizard and Smashing) to imperial influences (Sultan and Taj Mahal). As seen with boxing, a good nickname projected one’s skill and manliness in public and was a way to solidify stature in a growing urban environment.

Conclusion As this chapter has shown, ping-pong as a topic of analysis allows for an examination of youth within the changing urban dynamic of post-World War II Africa. Although questioned in its infancy, table tennis eventually became a more acceptable sport among the older generation in Lagos. As Nigerians became more adept at the sport, and started to defeat their international competition, including sporting rival Gold Coast each year from 1952 to 1955, the sport saw its acceptance grow beyond the confines of youth culture. As the Nigerian Daily Times summed up in 1955: “Table Tennis—the indoor game that both young and old love to watch and play.”80 Pingpong was an alternative to dominant forms of masculinity in the evolving city, and for many young men it was a modern sport that not only was an expression of their manliness but also was fun.

Notes 1 “Olowogbowo Boys Club,” Nigerian Daily Times [hereafter cited as NDT] (February 15, 1950). 2 Laurent Fourchard, “Lagos and the Invention of Juvenile Delinquency in Nigeria, 1920–60,” Journal of African History 47, no. 1 (2006): 115–37; Simon Heap, “‘Their Days Are Spent in Gambling and Loafing, Pimping for Prostitutes, and Picking Pockets’: Male Juvenile Delinquents on Lagos Island, 1920s–1960s,” Journal of Family History 35, no. 1 (2010): 48-70; Michael Gennaro, “Nigeria in the Ring: Boxing, Masculinity, and Empire in Nigeria, 1930– 1957” (PhD diss., University of Florida, 2016). 3 Michael Gennaro, “‘We Are Building the New Nigeria’: Lagos, Boys’ Clubs, and Leisure, 1942–1960,” in Everyday Life on the African Continent: Fun, Leisure, and Expressivity, ed. Kemi Balogun, Lisa Gilman, Melissa Graboyes, and Habib Iddrisu (Athens: Ohio University Press, forthcoming, 2019). 4 Ajibide Balugun, “Our Boys’ and Girls’ Clubs: Good Training Grounds for Ambitious Athletes,” NDT ( January 30, 1955). 5 See Gennaro, “Building the New Nigeria.” 6 See Gennaro, “Nigeria in the Ring.” Several articles were written in Nigerian newspapers throughout the postwar period valorizing and legitimizing sports as the vehicle to shape youth into men. See, for example, “The Importance of Physical Education,” Daily Service [hereafter cited as DS] (February 20, 1953). 7 Ibid. 8 “Olowogbowo Boys Club,” NDT (February 15, 1950). 9 I use muscular citizenship to describe the ways that sport, physical health/muscles, and responsibilities of citizenship merged in post-World War II Nigeria to craft an urbanbased masculinity. See Gennaro, “Nigeria in the Ring.” 10 Akin Mabogunje, Urbanization in Nigeria (New York: Africana Publishing, 1971), 257. Lagos’s population grew by over 550 percent between 1900 and 1950, and 1600 percent between 1900 and 1963.

26 M. Gennaro

11 Ibid. See also Lisa Lindsay’s examination of postwar trade unions and football clubs, in which she notes that public spaces in Lagos became more male-centric, since men dominated the public sphere through union participation, social clubs, and sporting clubs/participation. Lisa Lindsay, “Trade Unions and Football Clubs: Gender and the ‘Modern’ Public Sphere in Colonial Southwestern Nigeria,” in Leisure in Urban Africa, ed. Paul Tiyambe Zeleza and Cassandra Rachel Veney (Trenton, NJ: Africa World Press, 2003), 105–24. 12 Gennaro, “Nigeria in the Ring,” 146–7. 13 Toyin Falola, Development Planning and Decolonization in Nigeria (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1996), 22. 14 Ibid. See also Frederick Cooper, “Industrial Man Goes to Africa,” in Men and Masculinities in Modern Africa, ed. Lisa A. Lindsay and Stephan F. Miescher (Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann, 2003). 15 See Cooper, “Industrial Man Goes to Africa”; Lisa A. Lindsay, Working with Gender: Wage Labor and Social Change in Southwestern Nigeria (Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann, 2003); and Carolyn A. Brown, We Were All Slaves: African Miners, Culture, and Resistance at the Enugu Government Colliery, Nigeria (Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann, 2003). 16 Gennaro, “Nigeria in the Ring,” 147–9. 17 See James Mangan, “Ethics and Ethnocentricity: Imperial Education in British Tropical Africa,” in Sport in Africa: Essays in Social History, ed. William Baker and J.A. Mangan (New York: Africana Publishing, 1987). See also Anthony Kirk-Greene, “Imperial Administration and the Atlantic Imperative: The Case of the District Officer in Africa,” in Baker and Mangan, Sport in Africa. 18 See J.A. Mangan, Athleticism in the Victorian and Edwardian Public School: The Emergence and Consolidation of an Educational Ideology (London: Frank Cass, 2000). 19 Gennaro, “Nigeria in the Ring,” 129–30. 20 Saheed Aderinto, “Colonialism and the Invention of Modern Nigerian Childhood,” in Children and Childhood in Colonial Nigerian Histories, ed. Saheed Aderinto (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015), 12. As girls were pushed into domesticity, young boys were groomed for a position in the “male-centered edifice” of colonial society. 21 Mangan, “Education of an Elite”; Kirk-Greene, “Imperial Administration.” 22 E.J. Evans, Tropical Hygiene for Schools (Ibadan, NG: Spectrum Books, 1966). 23 “The Importance of Physical Education,” DS (February 20, 1953). 24 Ibid. 25 See Gennaro, “Nigeria in the Ring.” 26 See Gennaro, “Building the New Nigeria.” 27 “Youths Clubs Can Build a Nation!,” NDT (May 5, 1951). 28 “Welfare Services Expanded,” NDT (February 18, 1950). 29 Interview with Abraham Adeyemi Jones and Olu Moses, Lagos, Nigeria, June 2013. 30 See Gennaro, “Nigeria in the Ring.” 31 “Activities of Boys’ Clubs in the Colony Area,” NDT (April 6, 1951). 32 NDT (February 8, 1949). 33 “Boys Clubs’ Chairman Goes on Leave,” NDT (March 14, 1954). 34 Ibid. Farnsworth played against the “world famous” Hungarian duo of Szabados and Kelen in 1938. 35 Ibid. 36 For example, Farnsworth wrote under this pseudonym in the NDT (December 15, 1952). 37 Horatio Agedah, “Introducing an Outstanding Sportsman—Jack Farnsworth,” NDT (March 6, 1954). 38 “Boys Clubs’ Chairman Goes on Leave,” NDT (March 14, 1954). 39 “Jack Farnsworth Will Be Honoured at Today’s Boxing,” DS (March 6, 1954). 40 Ibid. 41 “Tourney as Tribute to Farnsworth,” NDT (March 3, 1954). 42 “Nigerian Table Tennis Association,” DS ( January 11, 1951).

Ping-pong and masculinity in Nigeria 27

43 “Jack Farnsworth Will Be Honoured at Today’s Boxing,” DS (March 6, 1954). 44 Ibid. 45 “Sports Writer Pays Tribute to J. Farnsworth Going on Leave,” West African Pilot [hereafter cited as WAP] (March 6 or 8, 1954). 46 Ibid. 47 “G.C. Team Promise to Avenge Defeat in Inter-Colo Match,” DS (May 8, 1953). 48 “Ping Pong Tournament,” NDT (February 8, 1949). 49 “Alagbala Suffers First Defeat,” NDT (April 28, 1955). 50 “Olowogbowo Defeats Isale-Eko in Ping Pong Tournament,” DS (November 24, 1949). 51 Ibid. 52 NDT (August 13, 1955). 53 Picture of Farnsworth, WAP (April 18, 1957). 54 “Sports Writer Pays Tribute to J. Farnsworth Going on Leave,” WAP (March 6 or 8, 1954). 55 ”Table Tennis Match Billed for Sunday,” NDT ( January 28, 1955). 56 See, for example, “UAC v UCI Today,” NDT (February 16, 1955). 57 “The Game of Table Tennis,” NDT (May 1, 1955). 58 Ibid. 59 “Association Plans Coaching for Table Tennis,” NDT ( January 1, 1951). 60 “Fire Brigade ‘A’ Leads in Division One at Christmas,” NDT ( January 9, 1951). 61 Olorun-Nimbe was the first mayor of Lagos after the city was granted a town council. Of the twenty-four members of the council, only five were Nigerian; the rest were “non-indigenes.” See Hakeem Tijani, “The ‘New’ Lagos Town Council and Urban Administration, 1950–1953,” in Nigerian Cities, ed. Toyin Falola and Steven Smith (Trenton, NJ: Africa World Press, 2004), 256. 62 “Mayor’s Cup for New Table Tennis Competition,” NDT ( January 23, 1951). The mayor went to the University of Glasgow and studied medicine. It is assumed that it was here that he learned to love Ping-Pong. 63 Ibid. 64 “International Table Tennis: The Stage is Set,” NDT (May 22, 1955). 65 “Nigeria Beat Gold Coast: Three Trophies Distributed,” NDT (May 7, 1953). 66 Ibid. 67 “Alli Achieves Ambition in Table Tennis,” NDT (August 11, 1955). 68 Ibid. 69 Brian Stoddart, “Sport, Cultural Imperialism, and Colonial Response in the British Empire,” Comparative Studies in Society and History 30, no. 4 (October 1988): 657. 70 Kathleen E. McCrone, “Play Up! Play Up! and Play the Game! Sport at the Late Victorian Girls’ Public School,” Journal of British Studies 23, no. 2 (Spring 1984): 106–34. 71 At this time, major boxing championship matches took place at the Glover Memorial Hall in Lagos in the garden outdoors. Boxing tournaments were frequently canceled when it rained. Many of the boxing rings at the Boys’ Clubs were located outdoors as well. 72 “Table Tennis Championship Today,” NDT (April 1, 1955). 73 “Ijebu Ping Pong Fans See Some Classy Play,” NDT (April 27, 1955). 74 “Sunday Sport,” NDT (March 13, 1955). 75 Ibid. 76 See Men and Masculinities in Modern Africa, ed. Lisa A. Lindsay and Stephan Miescher. 77 Gennaro, “Nigeria in the Ring.” 78 Ibid. 79 This is but one example taken from the news report on table tennis in DS (November 24, 1949). 80 “Table Tennis International Begins on Friday,” NDT (June 5, 1955); emphasis added.

2 PAS DE DEUX AS I TELL YOU Physical education, dance, and the remaking of discipline in World War II Brazzaville Danielle Porter Sanchez

Introduction1 In 1943, Ellebé (née Bernard Lefebvre) snapped a photograph of young Congolese girls dancing at a fête scolaire in Brazzaville, the capital of Afrique Française Libre (AFL).2 Every other photograph from an AFL photographer that featured African girls or women dancing presented them as participants in exotic ritual dances with “traditional” clothing, intricately beaded necklaces, and exposed breasts. Ellebé’s image was different. His photograph featured schoolgirls performing a dance that appeared highly choreographed and structured. Girls danced in pairs in a specific formation, and in the moment that Ellebé caught, their feet and arms were held in a modified fourth position en haut with their feet in relevé. The extent of precision varied among the schoolgirls, although their pristine dresses, cinched waists, and dance shoes matched perfectly. A shaded deck with adults and children in light safari hats, likely colonial administrators and their families, intently watched the spectacle, while younger schoolgirls, Europeans, and others took in the festivities along the sides of the street. In this frozen image, the athleticism and poise of these young girls uphold the goals of Félix Éboué and the colonial administration in their landmark publication La nouvelle politique indigène pour l’Afrique Equatoriale Française [The New Native Policy for French Equatorial Africa].3 This chapter focuses specifically on Brazzaville, the capital of AFL, during World War II. After the fall of France and the rallying of French Equatorial Africa (Afrique équatoriale française, AEF) and Cameroon in what became known as les Trois Glorieuses, the colonial administration had to address both diplomatic and practical concerns.4 At a very basic level, Congo was a relatively neglected space within the French Empire; yet, in this moment of necessity, AEF and Brazzaville, its capital, were Free France’s saving grace and the last bastions of resistance against Nazi hegemony and the Vichy puppet regime headed by Philippe Pétain. In this moment of urgency, discipline became a necessity because the entire world was watching Brazzaville.5 As a

Dance and discipline in Brazzaville 29

result, the administration of AEF, eventually led by Guyanese-born Félix Éboué, hypothesized the ideal situation that could address African and European relations on a global stage. It is in this context that we see the publication of La nouvelle politique indigène pour l’Afrique Equatoriale Française in 1941. This chapter explores the ways in which colonialism operated through the physical activities of dancing and gymnastics. The Balali uprising and subsequent flare-ups between the Balali and the French administration in the years prior to World War II instilled great fear in the leaders of AFL, largely because any kerfuffles with the Balali or any other ethnic group could potentially undermine the legitimacy of the Free French cause. The stakes were high for AFL and the AEF administration, so wider definitions of discipline became the cornerstone of proposed colonial policy. By examining La nouvelle politique indigène pour l’Afrique Equatoriale Française, official government documents, and propaganda photographs of athletic ventures, I argue that Free France in Africa sought to use certain types of physical activity as spaces of coercion, discipline, and indoctrination. The construction of fit Congolese bodies in colonial Brazzaville was about much more than calisthenics and strength training; rather, fitness instruction through dance and gymnastics became a space in which instructors served as entities who could potentially sculpt muscles and minds. In addition to serving as avenues for indoctrination, sporting instruction and performances became visual markers of socioeconomic class and one’s proximity to the French colonial administration during World War II. Sporting activities were not simply mindless activities of relaxation or personal fitness. Instead, we must consider the profound political and social implications of sporting instruction and performance not only for life and society in Brazzaville, but also for the politics of the fit and disciplined geographical area that served as the capital of AFL. Few scholars have given attention to sports in colonial Central Africa. Most scholarly work on sporting focuses on the Belgian Congo,6 from the politics of football7 to the role of sports in the Force Publique. 8 The bulk of scholarly work on sports on the other side of the Congo River rests on Phyllis Martin’s Leisure and Society in Colonial Brazzaville. 9 Martin’s work, which is widely heralded in African Studies (well beyond Central Africanists), provides a history of leisure in the capital of the French Congo from the city’s early origins to independence. As the title of the chapter “Football Is King” alludes, the sport dominated the leisure landscape of the colonial capital, and as Martin asserts, “The history of sport in Brazzaville also turns out to be an unexpected window on the multi-faceted colonial experience, which demonstrates the interplay of culture and political life.”10 While football was certainly “king” in Brazzaville until 1960 and beyond, we cannot forget the social importance of other sporting activities. While Martin discusses dancing, she primarily engages with leisurely dancing, specifically in bars on both sides of the Congo River. Martin details kyébé-kyébé and its popularity as a regional dance, as well as imported dances from Cabinda and West Africa, but does not delve into class distinctions and the politics of dance in colonial Brazzaville, especially during World War II.11 This chapter recognizes the significance of leisurely dance, but it is necessary to traverse the complicated landscape of dance and gymnastics as spaces of indoctrination and class politics.

30 D.P. Sanchez

Shimmying away from another uprising: Discipline and physical education The question of sporting activities and indoctrination did not necessarily arise for the first time during World War II. Martin details the rise of scouting in Brazzaville and notes a priest’s argument that there needed to be an attempt to facilitate the creation of a “training ground” for the elites through recreation that would, in turn, exert a positive impact on the masses.12 A 1937 article on sports in Brazzaville in Courrier d’Afrique emphasized the dire need to “organize their [youths’] leisure time, especially on Sundays and Thursdays after school.”13 The article continues that structure through sporting should not be solely reserved for the privileged in and around Brazzaville. It is no surprise the author of the Courrier d’Afrique article argues for increased access to structured leisure time for youths considering the political climate of the colony in 1937, particularly surrounding the Balali ethnic group. Efforts to construct control and discipline became an important facet of colonial policy in AEF cities, especially after the fall of France and the formation of AFL. In La Nouvelle politique indigéne pour l’Afrique Equatoriale Française, Éboué clearly states the necessity for a new disciplinary campaign that was tailored to the demographics of different urban and rural areas. Éboué frames the division of villages and cities in a way that privileges homogeneity and the perceived ability to aspire to évolué status: Rural and pastoral society, that is to say bush society, will follow the common rule of traditional institutions; the towns of Fort-Lamy [now N’Djamena] and Abéché, which have a very solid Muslim structure, do not need to change their organization. The suggested innovation then only concerns other cities of the colony, but it is necessary to make a distinction here: the cities that are comprised of a population, often from close by, that is homogenous and more or less évolué, sometimes they are made up of less rooted transplants, coming from different areas. Only the first can be truly called a city.14 Éboué later states that the only spaces that would qualify for the more genteel transformation he proposes would be Libreville (in Gabon) and Bacongo.15 In a document entitled “Note au sujet de la creation en AEF de communes indigenes,” an administrator expands on the unique composition of Bacongo and the rationale behind creating a different kind of structure there.16 Bacongo, like Libreville, contained a “native” agglomeration that seemed to fit closely with French colonialist ideas of the commune indigènes, meaning that its population was relatively homogeneous, contained an “important number of évolués,” and displayed the “existence of a bourgeois spirit developed by long-term contact with Europeans.”17 On the other hand, Poto-Poto in Brazzaville, like Pointe-Noire and Bangui, had populations that were more “disparate, where the races are mixing, where the unity of origin no longer appears.”18 The distinction between places like Bacongo and Poto-Poto is important because it contextualizes the ideological framing of the wartime colonial project.

Dance and discipline in Brazzaville 31

Éboué’s argument in La nouvelle politique indigène pour l’Afrique Equatoriale Française hinges on the idea of uplift and a different type of discipline for certain sectors of the population. In spaces like Bacongo and Libreville, Éboué sees the power of the evolving “native” who can cast away his traditional ways and become a productive body in the colony. Discipline is clearly an important part of this transformation, and Éboué recognizes the necessity for revisiting and revising stale disciplinary techniques, at least as they related to urban dwellers who showed promise for uplift. Regarding education, Éboué argues for sports; professional and postschool training; and the physical, intellectual, and moral education of the inhabitants of Bacongo.19 Why sports? Why Bacongo? If we pair efforts to enhance sporting and recreation with colonial and missionary education, the colonial project in Bacongo clearly seems to model the making of fit colonized bodies. French administrators sought to colonize the minds of youths in Bacongo through education, but the act of participating in sports or recreational activities, in addition to learning French history, culture, and language, added a layer of discipline through the following of commands and participating in organized calisthenics, whether we are talking about dance, gymnastics, or football. However, the practical skills become key here; professional training became a gateway for educated Congolese inhabitants to apply their skills as cogs in the colonial machine. At the same time, their fit and trained bodies and minds, at least in the eyes of the administration, allowed them to take orders and represent the colony in the best possible way. It is through the confluence of these types of physical, intellectual, and moral education that Éboué promotes that AEF, which had “arrived at a decisive moment in its existence,”20 would be able to become a productive colony. However, the colonial administration also recognized the need to address discipline in the less desirable and organized villages and cities. For places like Poto-Poto, which was more heterogeneous and chaotic, Éboué proposed a different, all-encompassing form of disciplining the masses: Discipline will not be only that of the indigénat, not only that of the court which will punish without interruption and indulgence vagrancy and theft, not only that of the special prison where I recommend transferring offenders, not only the sanitary police which sanctions prostitution, not only, in one word, a repressive discipline, followed attentively and with rigor; it will be equally an ameliorative discipline of sporting societies, scouting, military preparation and recreation groups. I greatly count on this all to give the uprooted native an essential framework … This cannot be done all at once, but the ever deeper influence of religious, scouting, or sporting associations in the homes of children and adults, the development of judgment by peers who are honored there, the notion of responsibility which they introduce with the practice of command, are so many excellent means which will eventually bear fruit.21 As Éboué asserted earlier in his text about the need to move forward, away from the “errors of the past,” and toward the creation of a “native population that is not only healthy, stable, and peaceful, but who grows in number and progresses in the

32 D.P. Sanchez

material, intellectual, and moral order. Until we give this collaboration a framework … development will only be a word.”22 While this new “moral order” relied on the disciplinary framework of sporting and recreation (among other things), we must take it seriously. Sport and recreation in the eyes of the French administration were powerful spaces of discipline and indoctrination that could stabilize a colony reeling from years of uprisings as it was now thrust upon the international stage. While sport could be used to create fit bodies as cogs for the administration in Bacongo, something different was going on in Poto-Poto. Perhaps most telling is the idea that sporting, scouting, and religious associations could work their way into the homes of youths and adults in these less homogeneous and more transitory sectors. By expanding into what seemed to be leisure spaces, the colonial administration and those working in cooperation with the state (religious and recreation groups, for example) could increase surveillance of black bodies and communities while also teaching lessons on discipline and fitness. Pushing away from negative reinforcement through punitive efforts like the indigénat and native courts toward seemingly “fun” outlets also masked the serious goals behind the campaign. Why was the colonial administration obsessed with the idea of discipline? Indiscipline or outright revolts had the potential to destroy the legitimacy of AFL internationally due to the heightened visibility of the Free French cause in Brazzaville. The Balali uprising had plagued the administration of AEF for years prior to the emergence of AFL, but the stakes were much higher after 1940. The background of the uprising began in 1926 with the founding of l’Amicale des Originaires de l’A.E.F., an association of originaires run by André Matsoua, in response to growing frustration in Balali country due to the constant demand for taxes and contributions to the colony. According to a 1942 political report from the Department of the Pool, “all work, all life was suspended in most of the centers of the bush, the native devoted all efforts to gain only what was necessary to pay his fees.”23 Furthermore, administrators complained of the “absolute refusal of collaboration.”24 As time progressed, “an intolerable malaise brooded little by little in the country.”25 During 1936 and 1937, tensions grew as Balali workers expressed frustration and resentment through acts like throwing rocks at the governor’s car during his drive through Mayama, an act that went unpunished at the time.26 Nevertheless, frustration with Balali “agitators” and civilians plagued the administration from 1937 onward. The colonial administration could not quell the frustrations of the Balali population, despite alleged efforts to collaborate with the Balalis to bring improvements to their well-being and prosperity to the region.27 Administrators moved forward with the creation of the “Balali Delegation,” which attempted to provide a forum for the “natives” and French officials. The program quickly fell apart as superior colonial authorities rallied in opposition against such measures.28 By the end of 1939, the ramifications of this stalemate reverberated throughout the Department of the Pool. The secretary-general of AEF released a note on the administrative reorganization of the Pool region of the Congo in December 1939, which asserted the troubling state of colonial relations with the Balali population:

Dance and discipline in Brazzaville 33

I would not hesitate to subscribe to this project if the political situation of the contemplated region was healthy. This is not the case. First of all, the absence in Kinkala of a European official inspires serious fears in me. In that subdivision, the Balali chiefs refuse to cooperate with us. They accept paying the tax and discharge their funds. So in order with the representative of the authority, they mark their spirit of independence in renouncing allocations provided in their favor (monthly retributions or refunds on taxes), in abstaining from paying compulsory contributions to the Société de Prévoyance, and thwarting our program of extension of crops.29 The secretary-general’s opinion to delay reorganizing the Pool region due to political instability was perhaps in the best interest of the Congo (and larger AEF) because Balali chiefs were not the only ones ready to thwart authority and express a “spirit of independence.” Confrontation was inevitable as the month of December progressed. In the last few days of 1939, the French punished more than 20 Balalis they considered to be agitators. Ferdinand Moanga, a 30-year-old Bacongo-Balali male from Kimboto, was arrested on December 28 for refusing to pay the Société de Prévoyance of Niari in 1938 and 1939. Moanga was also charged with participating in a public demonstration in October 1939 that could have weakened the respect of French authorities and laws in the region.30 Yet, according to Native Tribunal proceedings, Temoin Kipouni raised the argument that Moanga was not acting on his own; rather, he was simply following orders given by André Matsoua, Pierre Kinzonzi, and others.31 Nevertheless, the tribunal contended that without Moanga, all of the Bacongo-Balali would have paid their contributions.32As the testimony of Temoin Kipouni hinted, the story of October 1939 did not begin or end with Ferdinand Moanga. Within the same proceedings, others who refused to pay contributions consistently listed the names of Matsoua, Kinzonzi, and, to a lesser degree, Moanga and Kilembe.33 Thus, it was not surprising that the Permanent Commission of French Equatorial Africa moved to imprison Kinzonzi and other “authors of the opposition” in early 1940.34 Furthermore, the five-year imprisonment of each of the 22 implicated figures occurred in Ubangui-Shari and Chad, far from the Pool region and potential supporters.35 The arrest of “agitators” by the colonial administration did not frighten the entirety of the Balali population into submission. The director of political affairs for AEF submitted a report to the Governor General and the Conseil d’Administration on January 27, 1940, that attested to the spread of hostility, as “manifestations of the same nature just happened, but with greater magnitude in various subdivisions.”36 He continued by listing two Chefs de Canton in Kinkala who openly refused to pay contributions to the Société de Prévoyance, a Chef en titre du canton lari in Boko who adopted the “same uncompromising attitude,” the uncooperative sentiments of a Chef du canton Massounga in Mindouli, and the refusal to proceed with the livestock inventory and payment of contributions in Mayama.37 As a result, the director of political affairs emphasized the necessity of “making it known

34 D.P. Sanchez

to all Balalis that the attitude taken by the administration is not a hint of authoritarianism nor a tyrannical act, but a deep desire for order and discipline.”38 Order and discipline were matters that extended far beyond the chefs de cantons and chefs du tribus, as anger reached a peak in 1940. The local administration in the Department of the Pool faced the realities of such tensions as “natives openly went to violence against agents of the force publique.”39 Furthermore, sensational claims strained the already shaky space with claims like “the French will be expelled from the land and with the arrival of the Germans, you will succeed.”40 In this context, postal control flagged several letters that expressed both nuanced and overt frustration with the political situation. Many complained about repression,41 others begged for death, while some sought to transmit news related to the Balali situation.42 Unsurprisingly, these letters sometimes led to increased surveillance, as evidenced by a letter from Guillaume Moungali to Xavier Kimbouani, an “agitator” interned in Chad. Moungali, an interpreter for the administration, crafted a letter that carefully shifted from French to Batéké to discuss the death of Camille Matsima (another interned “agitator”) and mounting pressure against Balalis.43 Before switching back to French, Moungali poignantly professed, “if there is a place on this earth to be happy, this is not it.”44 Moungali’s seemingly subversive words caught the attention of the administration, which decided he should be the subject of “special surveillance” and, if necessary, should have “the position of trust that he occupies in the Cabinet” withdrawn.45 While the Balali uprising occurred primarily in the Pool District, which was less than 50 kilometers from Brazzaville, it is important to note that a substantial number of “agitators” were either from the subdivision of Brazzaville or had profound connections with the colonial capital. Brazzaville and surrounding areas were extremely volatile during World War II. Considering the continued frustrations of Balalis and others in the Pool District and the subdivision of Brazzaville in addition to widespread acts of resistance, we must acknowledge the fact that the region had the potential to explode into chaos and disrupt the narrative of AFL on the global stage. Now that we know the stakes were high, we may now discuss the ways people engaged with physical activities in Brazzaville during the war.

Choreographing the perfect image: Dance and gymnastics in AFL photography The photography of Germaine Krull, Ellebé, and others for Free French forces in Africa captured the images that the colonial administration sought to portray to the world: a Brazzaville that was not only organized and loyal, but also fit. When one examines photographs taken by Krull, Ellebé, and other state photographers, the centrality of fit colonized bodies becomes impossible to ignore. Besides images of children in missionary and colonial schools, photographs of active children provide fascinating sources for exploring the ways in which the colonial administration sought to extend the reach of discipline in Brazzaville during and after its time as the African capital of Free France and the France combattante.

Dance and discipline in Brazzaville 35

Photographic representations of inhabitants of Brazzaville after the fall of France tend to fall into two categories: the “traditional” and the “modern.”46 On one hand, there are countless images of smiling Congolese people and West African immigrants wearing printed cloth dress and carrying baskets on their heads,47 playing tam-tam (drums) without shirts,48 and performing “masked” dances.49 In fact, such spectacular dance performances also became features in festivals and parades to honor the Free French cause and France’s history. A photograph taken by Ellebé on July 14, 1941 shows a group of six Congolese men and women performing in a Bastille Day ceremony at the Garde indigène camp.50 This was not simply a small, local gathering for members of the Garde indigène; rather, General Charles de Gaulle presided over the ceremony while French men, women, and children watched the dances (either eagerly or awkwardly) alongside uniformed and nonuniformed African men and women.51 At first glance, these types of performances may not seem out of the ordinary, particularly because dances like the kyébé-kyébé were quite popular, even before World War II. However, the fact that de Gaulle and other French visitors and colonialists were watching this dance on Bastille Day in 1941 and a photographer was hired to immortalize the scene is significant and worthy of discussion. The performance of this dance in this very specific image, as captured by Ellebé, presents the viewer with an exotic and “peaceful” group of Africans who joyfully presented the colonizers with their seemingly untouched and unchanged cultural “traditions” through dance. They seem to be perfectly content, not only with their lives, but also with the presence of Charles de Gaulle (chief of the colonizers), Monsieur and Madame Colonizer, and the two children: Coloniseur and Colonisatrice. This trope of The Happy African was central to the French colonial mission, especially during the war. The distinction between local creative/cultural dancing and tightly wound, choreographed dances taught and performed for fitness purposes captures the imposed dichotomy of “traditional” vs. “modern.” If we place Ellebé’s photograph of dancers at the Bastille Day ceremony next to his image of young schoolgirls dancing at a fête scolaire, there are considerable differences. As opposed to a seemingly organic performance of a customary dance, the latter shows schoolgirls performing an incredibly rehearsed and precise piece of choreography. The latter was a display of fitness, grace, and discipline rather than creativity and local cultural practices. This distinction is key because the intent of the colonial mission and the purpose of these photographs were propagandistic. Both images send a similar message to viewers: Congo, and by extension AFL/Forces Française Libre/France combattante, is pacified. In the case of the Bastille Day photograph (and scores of other images like it), “traditional” dancers offer the image of a Congo that had locals willing to fight for France Libre (after all, the image was taken at the Garde indigène camp), but also peacefully performing for France. These are men and women who could be left to their own devices and would not become rabblerousers, rock-throwers, or anti-tax “agitators.” They could resist calls for resistance while also performing for and serving AFL because the administration believed they were stuck in an idyllic past, often linked to villages outside of Brazzaville.

36 D.P. Sanchez

If we shift to the fête scolaire or the fête de gymastique from 1944, we can clearly incorporate the logic of La nouvelle politique indigène pour l’Afrique equatoriale française, the end goal of which was the creation of a disciplined, polished public. For people in Bacongo, this meant racial uplift and wholesome discipline through sporting and recreation, among other things. The young schoolgirls in both photographs clearly practiced, whether they were performing elaborately choreographed dance routines or wielding batons on the athletic field in front of spectators. In both images, the girls are not individuals; rather, they were part of a larger whole—an organism— the purpose of whose representation was to convey cohesiveness, precision, modernity, and discipline. Their precise formations, a moving circle in the former and neat lines in the latter, are dronelike. The girls’ function at the moment of these snapshots was to present the ability to take orders and perform, to sell the target audience on the success of the colonial mission through the indoctrination and disciplining of black, urban masses. Éboué’s argument in his publication makes it clear that discipline had long been a problem in AEF, but harping on the issues of the past would not solve the predicament at hand.52 Rather, instilling discipline, in this case through fit and disciplined bodies, would be the saving grace of the colony. Yet, we must ask, to what end? Where does dancing get us? When we look at the images of dancing or baton-wielding girls, how do their precision movements connect to the future of the colony? The dances and gymnastic routines performed by young Congolese girls in Ellebé’s photographs of course showed the ability to do certain moves to the beat of a specific song, but more importantly they showed spectators the young girls’ capacity to follow orders. Through the logic of the administration, these young girls would be ready to not just dance, but to become cogs in the colonial machine. They would become ready to take orders, ready to work for information services, ready to work as translators, and most importantly, ready to comply. In sum, dance was believed to be a mechanism to create fit and colonized bodies and minds that the administration could use to further its own goals. In the context of World War II, this meant the creation of a space that could serve as the legitimate hub of the AFL movement and, after the capital moved to Algiers, the symbolic capital of France combattante. The process of creating a class of collaborators who bought into French ideals and the colonial mission was already under way by the time La nouvelle politique indigène pour l’Afrique Equatoriale Française was published in 1941. Throughout the course of World War II, Congolese and West African petitioners wrote letters to the Governor General asking for permission to open bar-dancing establishments in Brazzaville. For example, William Ayivi Adjreke wrote to the Governor General of French Equatorial Africa in November 1940 with a request to open a bar where people could gather, socialize, and dance. The administration replied to Adjreke with a very succinct no.53 However, Adjreke continued his push for an additional recreational establishment in Poto-Poto through a follow-up letter to the Governor General. Over the course of five major points, Adjreke asserted that the establishment would play European music, which would not disrupt the public

Dance and discipline in Brazzaville 37

order, and which would “raise the morale of the native population.”54 Similarly, Adjreke refuted claims that there were enough recreational establishments by asserting the fact that there were 12,000 inhabitants of Poto-Poto and only three bar establishments that offered a dancing environment. A similar request came from Claude Chidas in February 1941. In his letter to the chief administrator of the colonies, Chidas requested authorization to open a “bar-dancing” establishment with a cinema in Poto-Poto.55 Chidas emphasized the point that his bar would sell only nonalcoholic beverages. Furthermore, he stated that 30 percent of the revenue from the establishment in 1941 would go to toward the France Libre war effort through the voluntary contributions of the Dahomeans of Brazzaville.56 Again, the administration responded to Chidas with a resounding no. Veronique Aissi, a tradeswoman in Poto-Poto, also wrote to the Governor General of French Equatorial Africa in September 1942; however, she sought approval to open a dancing establishment solely for évolués in the village of Poto-Poto. According to Aissi, morale was low in Poto-Poto, “especially at this time when sorrows of all kinds overwhelm even the healthiest of minds.”57 Aissi continued by noting the large number of évolués visiting the other bank of the Pool for recreation because “the dances to tam-tam (drums) which are organized every Sunday afternoon on the public streets of Poto-Poto [are] of a purely local character, not to mention primitive, does not distract, and thus has no moral effect on [the people].”58 To provide a remedy for the low morale of évolués in Poto-Poto, Aissi proposed opening a dancing establishment that would also sell carbonated beverages. In addition to affirming her desire to do her part to “accomplish all formalities resulting from this request,” Aissi also emphasized that her husband and the police would “assure order on the days of the dances.”59 Despite Aissi’s compelling argument, the Administrateur-Maire of Brazzaville responded negatively to Aissi’s request on the grounds that there were many servicemen, Frenchmen, and foreigners in Brazzaville and the “clientele of this establishment would be mixed which could provoke numerous incidents.”60 Every now and then, petitioners received a positive response to requests for leisure spaces. For example, Timothée Bemba wrote to the administration in October 1942 requesting permission to open an establishment to sell carbonated beverages in Bacongo.61 The Chef du Poste had no concerns with Bemba’s request because “the opening of one of these establishments would be … a satisfaction for the population of the village, where many native évolués have asked me many times to intervene with the administration for this purpose.”62 Furthermore, as the Chef du Poste noted, the location would be close enough to facilitate surveillance.63 Yet, even this acceptance of the establishment in Bacongo could hint at the administration’s differing perceptions and treatment of Bacongo and Poto-Poto.64 Demands for bar-dancing establishments offer insight into not only free time in wartime Brazzaville, but also the politics of leisure. Congolese and West African petitioners for bar-dancing spaces clearly did not want to listen to the tam-tam on Sunday in Poto-Poto, as Ellebé captured in a photograph in 1942.65 Rather, they were more interested in taking what was perceived to be

38 D.P. Sanchez

a European form of leisure (specifically, listening and dancing to European music). While there was considerable pushback from administrators against bardancing establishments in Poto-Poto, permission for Timothée Bemba to open an establishment for évolués shows us a different scenario: one in which France’s efforts to indoctrinate urban populations was realized. Bacongo’s population was more homogeneous and had greater access to education, and some Congolese people chose to aspire to évolué status. In doing so, they began to prefer “European”-style leisure outlets, but perhaps more importantly, they grew to collaborate more and more. We know this because a major part of notable évolué status was service to the colony. By simply looking at dance and the ways it manifested, the French could potentially assure themselves of the sound nature of their grasp over the region. Rural areas seemed pacified and firmly entrenched within an idyllic past, as evidenced by the performance of “traditional” dances. Youths in urban areas were receiving physical education through dance and gymnastics training that served as mechanisms for indoctrination and the creation of fit bodies and minds in Bacongo. Finally, évolués sought spaces to dance to European music—an indicator that “evolved” people were not getting too angry; rather, they were becoming assimilated to the colonial machinery. Yet, dance clearly was not enough. Dance could not prevent defiance in the form of “deteriorating the colony.”66 Nor could it prevent small and large acts of resistance, which led to 139 punishments, 1,450 fines, and 1,541 days spent in prison in the subdivision of Brazzaville due to charges under the regime of the indigénat. 67 Dance also could not prevent anti-French, pro-German rumors and propaganda from spreading.68 Nor could it prevent the rise in numerous anticolonial millenarian religious movements in and around Brazzaville.69 Simply put, dance and gymnastics were solely window-dressing that could potentially distract from much larger systemic issues in the colony. Unfortunately, there are no direct responses to the colonial administration’s dance/fitness disciplinary campaign from Congolese or West African communities in and around Brazzaville in newspapers or documents in Congolese or French archives.70 It is thus difficult to fully gauge responses to fitness policy in the wartime capital of AFL. Yet, if we consider the issue of demand, we may be able to glean public opinion regarding dance and fitness. Some Congolese people and West Africans were interested in dance, but on their own terms. Based on the multiple letters to the colonial administration, people, particularly évolués, wanted to dance, but not necessarily to engage in the dances being shoved down the throats of youths in the city. The types of dance in vogue among Congolese and West African city dwellers did not necessarily reflect the ideal of the disciplined body and mind. Rather, people wanted to dance in leisurely ways and in leisure spaces. They wanted to dance, drink, and merrily engage in social activities that could distract them from the war effort. This is a clear break from the performative militaristic forms of dance thrust upon Congolese schoolgirls.

Dance and discipline in Brazzaville 39

Conclusion It should not be surprising that the issues of leisure and sport became critical during World War II. Before the war, sports like soccer kept youths busy. After the fall of France and the rallying of AEF, administrators quickly recognized the power of sporting and recreation to create disciplined populations in specific sectors of the territory. La Nouvelle politique indigéne pour l’Afrique Equatoriale Française, Félix Éboué’s landmark 1941 publication, details the need for more diverse approaches to the question of discipline in AEF, particularly because the region was so far behind. Sporting, recreation, and scouting were some of the most important activities the government proposed to create a more malleable, indoctrinated, and disciplined population. This publication came at a pivotal moment. Not only was AEF reeling from recent uprisings by Balalis and others, Brazzaville was also newly raised to global significance due to the fall of France and les Trois Glorieuses. Creating a disciplined population was not just advantageous; it was necessary for the Free French cause. In hindsight, believing that sports, and dance in particular, could be the recreation to save AFL seems ridiculous. Yet, at the time, it was part of a much larger effort to pacify and police black bodies in the AFL capital. Whether or not youths learned to dance to the catchy French tunes of the day, it was clear to many in Brazzaville that French colonialism was violent, extractive, exploitative, and oppressive. The rush of endorphins from exercising the heart could not distract the population from the catastrophic abuses they experienced on a daily basis. At the same time, some Congolese and West Africans benefited from French colonialism and stood behind the Free French cause. This was especially the case for some évolués. However, it is misleading and irresponsible to buy into the idea that these groups stood uniformly behind France, as propaganda images attempted to portray. Rather, we must look past the choreography and carefully constructed images to recognize the underlying violence of French colonialism in Brazzaville.

Notes 1 I would like to sincerely thank Ioanna Chatzidimitriou for assisting me with tricky translations and Mark Stein and Lynda Yankaskas for listening to me ramble about my arguments and providing ample advice and support. All translations are my own. 2 Bernard Lefebvre (Ellebé), “Brazzaville: Fête scolaire,” photograph, Brazzaville, 1943, FR CAOM 30Fi73/51, Archives Nationales d’Outre-Mer [hereafter cited as ANOM]. Ellebé (1906–1992) was a professional photographer who worked for the Service d’information for Forces Françaises Libres and France combattante from August 1940 to June 1944. 3 Félix Éboué, La nouvelle politique indigène pour l’Afrique Equatoriale Française (Paris: Office français d’édition; originally written in 1941, republished in 1945). 4 For more on the diplomatic remaking of Brazzaville during World War II, see Danielle Sanchez, “Free(ing) France in Colonial Brazzaville: Race, Urban Space, and the Making of Afrique Française Libre,” (PhD diss., University of Texas at Austin, 2015; Routledge, forthcoming), chap. 1; Eric Jennings, Free French Africa in World War II: The African Resistance (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015).

40 D.P. Sanchez

5 In “Free(ing) France in Colonial Brazzaville,” chap. 3 (“‘If There Is a Place on this Earth to Be Happy, This Is Not It’: Discipline, Control, and Daily Life through Numbers in Afrique Française Libre”), Sanchez discusses the problematic landscape of discipline in the AFL capital, from the indigénat to missionary education and scouting. 6 There are many historical texts, including Victor Boin, ed., Histoire du football en Belgique et au Congo belge (Brussels: Afrique Leclercq & De Haas, 1950); and Roger Vanmeerbeek, Roland Renson, and Christel Peeters, “Sport et mission au Congo belge: ‘Tata’ Raphaël de la Kethulle,” in Sports et loisirs dans les colonies XIX–XX siècles, ed. Evelyne Combeau-Mari (Paris: Le Publieur, 2004), 240–53. 7 See Paul Dietschy, “Football Players’ Migrations: A Political Stake,” Historical Social Research 31, no. 1 (2006): 31–41; Peter C. Alegi, “Katanga vs. Johannesburg: A History of the First Sub-Saharan African Football Championship,” Kleio 31 (1999): 55–74. 8 Roger Vanmeerbeek and Pascal Delheye, “Military Sport in the Belgian Congo: From Physical Training and Leisure to Belgian-Congolese Records in Track and Field, 1945–1960,” International Journal of the History of Sport 30, no. 16 (2013): 1929–46. 9 Phyllis Martin, Leisure and Society in Colonial Brazzaville (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995). 10 Ibid., 99. 11 Ibid., 128–36. 12 Ibid., 92. 13 L.T., “Afrique Equatoriale Française: Pour le sport à Brazzaville,” Courrier d’Afrique (May 21, 1937). 14 Éboué, La nouvelle politique indigène pour l’Afrique Equatoriale Française, 25. 15 Ibid. 16 “Note au sujet de la création en A.E.F. de communes indigènes,” GGAEF 5D206, ANOM. 17 Ibid. 18 Ibid. 19 Éboué, La nouvelle politique indigène pour l’Afrique Equatoriale Française, 26–7. 20 Ibid., 9. 21 Ibid., 32–3. 22 Ibid., 9–10. 23 Département du Pool, Rapport Politique, 1942, 4(2)D75, ANOM. 24 Ibid. 25 Ibid. 26 Ibid. 27 Ibid. 28 Ibid. 29 “Note au sujet de remaniement d’organisation administrative du Pool,” December 1939, GGAEF 5D195, ANOM. 30 “Audience publique foraine du Tribunal Indigène de 2eme dégrée de Dolisie tenue en matière répressive directe, à Zanaga en la sale ordinaire des séances du Tribunal de premier dégrée de cette Subdivision le 1er Janvier 1940,” GGAEF 5D191, ANOM. 31 Ibid. See “Témoin Kipouna.” 32 Ibid. 33 Ibid. 34 “Rapport de Présentation,” January 27, 1940, GGAEF 5D191, ANOM. 35 No. 331: Arrête portant l’internement de certains indigènes du Département du Pool,” January 27, 1940, GGAEF 5D191, ANOM. 36 “Rapport de Présentation,” January 27, 1940, GGAEF 5D191, ANOM. 37 Ibid. 38 Ibid. 39 “Aspect Actuel de la Question,” in Département du Pool, Rapport Politique’ 1942, 4(2) D75, ANOM. 40 Ibid.

Dance and discipline in Brazzaville 41

41 Letter from Prosper Toko to Raymond Mahouata, April 14, 1940, GGAEF 5D191, ANOM. 42 Letter from Guillaume Moungali to Xavier Kimbouani, May 2, 1940, GGAEF 5D191, ANOM. 43 Ibid. 44 Ibid. 45 No. 4664: Letter from Governor General of French Equatorial Africa to the Governor of Chad, June 19, 1940, GGAEF 5D191, ANOM. 46 I use these terms specifically because they represent the colonial administration’s belief about assimilated and unassimilated “natives.” This false dichotomy was a major feature of French colonialism in central Africa and, of course, does not account for the fact that “traditional” and “modern” are racist, Eurocentric constructs. 47 Germaine Krull, “Groupe de femmes Bacongo,” photograph, Brazzaville, 1943, FR CAOM 30Fi75/61, ANOM. 48 Germaine Krull, “Brazzaville: Tam-tam à Poto-Poto,” Photograph, Brazzaville, 1943, FR CAOM 30Fi75/32, ANOM. 49 Ellebé, “Brazzaville: Fête scoute: Danseur costumé, Scène de scoustisme: danse avec masques,” photograph, Brazzaville, 1943, Archives FR CAOM 30Fi75/37, ANOM. 50 Ellebé, “Brazzaville: Scène de danse,” photograph, Brazzaville, 1941, FR CAOM 30Fi75/42, ANOM. 51 For example, the French man in the safari hat on the far left side of the photo joyfully gazes upon the performance as a French woman on the right looks down while clutching her young daughter and son. 52 Éboué, La nouvelle politique indigène pour l’Afrique Equatoriale Française, 1. Éboué states, “French Equatorial Africa has arrived at a decisive moment in its existence. It is useless to return to the errors of the past.” 53 No. 409: Letter from the Governor General of French Equatorial Africa to William Ayivi Adjreke of Poto-Poto, December 18, 1940, GGAEF 5D126, ANOM. 54 Letter from William Ayivi Adjreke to the Governor General of French Equatorial Africa, December 30, 1940, GGAEF 5D126, ANOM. 55 Letter from Claude Chidas to the Chief Administrator of the Colonies, February 15, 1941, GGAEF 5D126, ANOM. 56 Ibid. 57 Letter from Veronique Aissi to the Governor General of French Equatorial Africa, September 29, 1942, GGAEF 5D126, ANOM. 58 Ibid. 59 Ibid. 60 Telegram from the Administrateur-Maire to the Governor of Moyen Congo, October 1, 1942, GGAEF 5D126, ANOM. 61 Letter from Thimotee Bemba to the Chef du Territoire of Moyen Congo, October 22, 1942, GGAEF 5D126, ANOM. 62 Transmission to the Adminstrateur-Maire of Brazzaville from the Chef du Poste, October 21, 1942, GGAEF 5D126, ANOM. 63 Ibid. 64 See Sanchez, “Free(ing) France in Colonial Brazzaville.” Bacongo’s population was more ethnically homogeneous than Poto-Poto and seemed to reflect French colonialist ideas of the communes indigènes. As a result, the local administration perceived Bacongo as a space that was potentially easier to control from an administrative standpoint. Thus, slight acts of lenience regarding alcohol control and the approval of a leisure space for Africans in the larger, hypercolonized city of Brazzaville may have reflected these administrative perceptions of Bacongo. 65 Ellebé, “Brazzaville: Tam-Tam du dimanche à Poto-Poto,” photograph, Brazzaville, 1942, FR CAOM 30Fi75/35, ANOM. 66 “Département du Pool, Rapport Politique, Année 1942,” 4(2) D75, ANOM. 67 Ibid.

42 D.P. Sanchez

68 Sanchez, “Free(ing) France in Colonial Brazzaville.” Chapter 4 discusses various forms of resistance, including gossip and rumor that served to destabilize the Free French cause in Brazzaville. 69 Ibid. Chapter 5 discusses the rise of millenarian religious movements during World War II; specifically, Sanchez discusses Mission des Noirs, Zambi Kaki, and Matsouism. 70 I visited the Congolese National Archives in Brazzaville, and in France, the Archives Nationale d’Outre-Mer in Aix-en-Provence, the Service historique de la Défense in Vincennes, and the Centre des archives diplomatiques in Nantes. I also accessed the two main newspapers in the region: L’A.E.F. (published in Brazzaville from 1943 to 1945) and Le courrier d’Afrique (published in the Belgian Congo beginning in 1930).

3 CAMEROONIAN CRICKET The interface between local and dominant colonial ideologies Joanne Clarke

Introduction This chapter explores how English cricket ideologies interface with local cricket in the postcolonial nation of Cameroon. The sport of cricket conjures up notions of Britishness (or Englishness), and ideologies associated with the sport have been reproduced and maintained in many former British colonies.1 Previous literature on such topics is dominated by insights from successful cricket-playing nations such as South Africa, India, Pakistan, Australia, and New Zealand. To date, little has been documented regarding the lesser-known cricketing nations, a gap that this chapter intends to address. Often referred to as the “imperial game” or the quintessential English game, cricket is a relatively new sport in Cameroon. I will use the concept of “imagined communities”2 to demonstrate how the sport has been developed largely by anglophone Cameroonians as a way to reimagine their English heritage and sense of community. Unlike many ex-British colonies, cricket was not planted in Cameroon during the period of British rule (1916–60); however, as the chapter will explore, cricket has emerged in Cameroon over recent years and English ideologies remain dominant. In addition to the concept of “imagined communities,” postcolonial theory is drawn on to explore data from officials and volunteers associated with the Cameroon Cricket Federation (CCF), the sport’s national governing body.3 Cameroon’s triple colonial heritage makes it a unique nation, fused with complexities from its British, French, and German influences.4 With a population of over 20 million, Cameroon has more than 200 ethnic groups and languages, including two official languages (French and English), and a policy of bilingualism. Since its reunification and independence in 1961, Cameroon has become known for its internal rifts between the eight French-speaking (francophone) regions and the two English-speaking (anglophone) regions.5 These social and cultural

44 J. Clarke

complexities of Cameroon are often mirrored in the sporting domain, which provides an opportunity to explore the ideologies and influences of the “quintessential English game” within a French-dominated nation.6 The chapter begins with a summary of literature detailing Cameroon’s cultural history; the relationship of sport to imagined communities; implications of postcolonial theory for sport; and the contemporary role of cricket in Cameroon. Following a methodological overview, I highlight Cameroon’s cricket culture by examining the infrastructure, ideologies, and culture of the CCF and how these aspects interface with colonial ideologies associated with cricket.

Cameroon history: Colonial influence and cultural divide Cameroon is a country with a triple colonial legacy, having been colonized first by Germany, and later by the French and the British after World War II. With such a unique heritage, modern-day Cameroon holds memberships in both the Commonwealth of Nations (drawing on its British colonial heritage), and the Organisation internationale de la Francophonie (a body representing countries where there is a notable affiliation with French culture). With its history marked by colonial political residue, Cameroon offers a unique case in which two different ideologies exist when it comes to governance, institutions, and culture. Since Cameroon gained its independence in 1961, postcolonial administrative boundaries have been a major source of contestation and tension, as across postindependence Africa in general.7 With numerous ethnic groups, each with its own identity and affiliations, Cameroonian culture is also heavily fused with elements of French and British cultures that have survived into the postcolonial period.8 The cultural legacies from the original British and French territories brought with them different languages and levels of economic development, which needed to be merged.9 Piet Konings and Francis Nyamnjoh argue that the francophone-dominated government has continually attempted to deconstruct anglophone identity by encouraging divisions within the anglophone elite and setting up new ethnoregional identities that appear to transcend the Anglo–Franco divide.10 The political agenda has increasingly been dominated by what is known as the “anglophone problem,” which poses a major challenge to the efforts of the postcolonial state to forge national unity and integration.11 Rather than identifying as Cameroonian, people have started to classify themselves as either anglophone or francophone citizens.12 Cameroon’s constitution states that the English and French languages should be given the same weight; however, many official documents are produced only in French, and some ministers deliver speeches only in French, even in English-speaking regions.13 Internal tensions have resulted in a backlash by anglophones, who view themselves as marginalized citizens in a francophone-dominant society.14 Anglophones take the view that their regions are being underdeveloped and marginalized by the central government, which operates from the mainly French-speaking capital, Yaoundé. In recent times, these tensions have turned to civil unrest resulting in a number of deaths as police and protestors clash.15

Cameroonian cricket 45

Sport and imagined communities Sport can play an important role in defining an individual’s identity, with many people defining themselves on the basis of sporting interests that can influence their wider social networks and sense of community.16 One of the most influential contemporary notions of “community” in sport is Benedict Anderson’s idea of “imagined communities.”17 Anderson engages with the ideas of nation and nationhood and explains that “a nation is an imagined political community—and imagined as both inherently limited and sovereign.”18 He characterizes such communities as imagined since “the members of even the smallest nation will never know most of their fellow-members, meet them, or even hear of them, yet in the minds of each lives the image of their communion.”19 With modern communications, Anderson suggests that it has become possible to view a nation and its identity as a social construct, suggesting that all communities are imagined. Applying Anderson’s notion to a sporting context, individuals are able to collectively construct a sense of identity and/or shared set of ideologies to form an imagined sporting community. Taking the case of Cameroon and the aforementioned deep-rooted cultural divide between anglophones and francophones (which also pervades sporting structures), it is unsurprising that a sport such as cricket, with its inherent English traditions, may offer a place for anglophones to imagine a sense of community as an expression of common identity within their marginalized segment of Cameroonian society.

Using a postcolonial lens to explore imagined communities: The story of Cameroonian cricket Examining literature on cricket, previous studies have critically explored the interconnected issues of culture and identity and globalization.20 Building on these issues, Subhas Chakraborty claims that it is natural that cricket, one of the lasting legacies of the British Empire, should be the subject of scrutiny by academics.21 Anshuman Prasad recognizes the need to investigate the complex and deeply fraught dynamics of colonialism and the ongoing significance of how the colonial encounter has affected local people.22 Postcolonial theory has developed from the works of political critics such as Edward Said and Homi Bhabha, who in various ways have sought to uncover the agency and resistance of people subjugated by colonialism.23 Of particular concern to postcolonial studies is the attempt to recover the local, indigenous understandings in order to disrupt entrenched systems of knowledge of contemporary voices of the colonially marginalized.24 As the next section explains, modern-day Cameroon is deeply affected by ongoing cultural disputes among francophones, who comprise approximately 80 percent of the population. Compared with other cricket-playing ex-colonies, Cameroon is a unique postcolonial nation. Cricket was not transplanted by the British during their colonial rule, but rather was introduced in the early part of the twenty-first century by a group of anglophone Cameroonians as a way to celebrate their heritage by connecting to English (and wider Commonwealth) ideologies.

46 J. Clarke

Marginalized anglophones and the growth of cricket in Cameroon If sport is to be seen as a direct reflection of the society from which it evolves, then sport in Cameroon should be positioned within the postcolonial rhetoric of the ongoing anglophone–francophone dispute.25 The provision and infrastructure for sport in Cameroon is led by the government, which is widely known to be dominated by francophones.26 The headquarters for all Cameroonian sporting bodies are based in the predominantly francophone capital city, Yaoundé. Not only are the physical structures positioned within a francophone region, the government-controlled information and documents relating to sport tend to be written in French, with a few selected documents in English, despite English being an official language. The National Olympic Committee of Cameroon propagates the need for sport, organized through various sports federations, the largest being the Cameroon Football Federation. A score of other federations exist, including the Cameroon Cricket Federation, which is the focus of this chapter. Cricket was first introduced by a group of anglophone Cameroonians as part of a project organized and funded by the Cameroon Commonwealth Students and Youth Development Organization in the early 2000s. The project, called the Cameroon Cricket Outreach Program, had the objective of using cricket to promote Commonwealth values and ideals, bringing cricket to Cameroon at the grassroots level, and ultimately using cricket to attain other youth empowerment and development goals.27 By virtue of its affiliation with the Commonwealth and associated objectives, the founding advocates for cricket in Cameroon drew heavily on the game’s British influence. As cricket began to grow in popularity, moves were made to create a national body to control and manage the game. In 2005, the CCF was recognized as the sole governing body of the sport in Cameroon, and subsequently became an affiliate of the International Cricket Council (ICC) in 2007.28 The small governing body divides its efforts between developing the national team and growing general participation in the game. The national team did not make its debut until 2011, when it played in the 2011 ICC Africa Twenty20 Division Three tournament in Ghana against Lesotho, Rwanda, Gambia, Mali, Morocco, and Seychelles.29 From a development perspective, the CCF’s efforts focus on school-based initiatives and charity work, combining cricket coaching with health messages on topics such as HIV/AIDS awareness, a project funded and driven by a British charity, Cricket For All.30

Methodology Twenty-one participants took part in the study and were recruited via purposeful and snowball sampling to explore the dominant ideologies associated with Cameroonian cricket. For the purposes of the study, I define ideology as being the attitudes of participants toward the culture, values, beliefs, and assumptions associated with cricket in Cameroon. The fieldwork took place in the two mainstays of Cameroon cricket: Yaoundé, home to the CCF offices (a francophone region), and

Cameroonian cricket 47

the city of Buea in the Southwest Region (an anglophone region), a development region for the CCF. Initial contact with participants was made through a gatekeeper who also served as a research assistant to the project:31 Christian (a pseudonym) identifies as a senior volunteer within CCF and was well known within cricket and sporting circles in Cameroon, which enabled him to contact participants and inquire about interest in the study. Subsequently, semistructured interviews were organized at locations convenient to the volunteers and staff; these included at the side of grass pitches used for cricket training, in marketplaces, in schools, and at the CCF offices. Interviews were offered in either English or French. Christian acted as interpreter as and when required. As an anglophone male from the Southwest Region, Christian had studied at the undergraduate level in both French and English. He was well versed in Cameroonian French culture, as he is married to a francophone and works in Yaoundé. Of the 21 participants, seven chose to be interviewed in French and 14 in English. Nineteen of the interviewees were male and two were female. Semistructured interviews lasted between 35 and 90 minutes and were audio recorded with written permission granted by participants. Field notes were kept by the researcher, documenting specific events and informal conversations of interest to the study. Interviews were transcribed verbatim and, along with fieldwork diaries, were analyzed using QSR NVivo 11, a qualitative data analysis software program. Template analysis, a version of thematic analysis, was used to identify an initial template of codes before reanalyzing the data to develop a final code book and explore the key themes.32 The findings are organized and discussed below.

Cricket development and the reimagination of the British Empire Within the British Empire, cricket was an important national symbol of “Englishness,” and it was widely believed that cricket helped inculcate many of the qualities fundamental to gentility that the British perceived as being essential to building strong character.33 It was long held within the British colonies that cricket could strengthen imperial ties.34 In particular, C.L.R. James notes that the game of cricket embodies the values and morals of “Englishness” and in so doing draws on the game’s missionary role within the colonial period and the struggle between colonizer and colonized.35 Following a series of semistructured interviews with staff and volunteers from the CCF, Jeremy, an anglophone volunteer, reflected warmly on this sense of affiliation: “[Cricket] is another way to make Cameroon learn our darling English language, which we struggle to do, and we are part of the Commonwealth.”36 Jeremy’s comments echo those of many interviewees who referred to cricket and its close connections with England, Britain, and/or the Commonwealth. Researcher field notes summarize informal conversations with the founder of CCF, Patrick, a black anglophone Cameroonian from the English-speaking Northwest Region. Patrick talked about how he set up cricket in Cameroon in the early 2000s while he was a university student in Yaoundé, and recalled how he leaned on a handful of anglophone acquaintances who were involved as sports administrators or physical education teachers to assist his mission and passion for cricket.

48 J. Clarke

Sharing his love of cricket in his formal interview, Patrick stated: I used to hear from the BBC “cricket,” “Zimbabwe,” “South Africa,” and “International Test Cricket” and things like that, and I just got marveled with things like that and as I grew up it kept revibrating in my mind … I had not known cricket before, to be sincere with you. I just knew that cricket was an Englishman’s sport. Cricket is associated to the Commonwealth. They used to call it the gentleman’s game, and as I told you early, the sport of cricket in Cameroon is linked to the history of the Commonwealth, and so we wanted a sporting discipline that could best expand on the Commonwealth values and we felt cricket was ideal.37 Patrick’s awareness of cricket stemmed from listening to the BBC, a broadcasting corporation famous for its role in forging a sense of national identity through the promotion of the British monarchy and empire.38 Reflecting Cameroon’s divided culture and well-documented francophone values and infrastructure, the introduction of and passion for cricket offers an alternative British ideology, led by anglophone Cameroonians, as a way to reimagine community and celebrate elements of their British heritage amidst the everyday dominant French culture.39 This ideology was consistent in a number of anglophone testimonies. Franck, for instance, recalled his first involvement with cricket: “Patrick called me back and said, ‘Where are you, where are you, I need you back, I need you back, we need anglophones.’ He spoke to me and he really begged. Because it would be hard for the francophones to understand the terminology [of cricket].”40 For many like Franck, the apparent jargon and technicalities of the game were something that only anglophones could understand. For example, Benjamin, a volunteer coach and secondary schoolteacher, recognized that anglophones are fewer in number but had an upper hand in regard to the new game being introduced to Cameroon: “You know Cameroon is a bilingual country, with more francophones than anglophones. So numberwise they are more than us. But the advantage that we have over them is that cricket is purely English.”41 Indeed, for Benjamin and other anglophones, cricket is seen as a metaphor for reimagining “Englishness” and a celebration of their British colonial ties, within the broader backdrop of a divided Cameroon in which many anglophones feel marginalized. Since its recognition as a National Sports Organization by the Cameroon government in 2005, the CCF has increased its capacity by involving more volunteers in the running of the organization. Of the participants interviewed, eight identified as francophone and 13 as anglophone, a balance that goes against the general demographics of Cameroon whereby anglophones are fewer than 20 percent of the country’s population.42

Cameroonian cricket 49

Participants were especially vocal about the ongoing anglophone–francophone divide. Lionel sums up the type of feeling of many anglophone participants: “Cameroon is a bicultural country where we speak French and English. We have a bicultural nature, and if you look at it critically, the French is dominating and the French is causing a lot of harm and pressure on the English language.”43 Many anglophones drew on Cameroon’s colonial past to articulate the modern-day cultural divide. As Benjamin said, “We have the notion that British people colonized us and abandoned us to the French.” For Benjamin and others, Cameroon’s colonial past evidently still shapes their attitudes today. Romeo, in particular, offered a very insightful example from an anglophone perspective: There is a notion that a British man is respectful, is full of integrity as compared to somebody from France. We have some patriarchal ideas about the French which I may not want to say. We in Cameroon, we easily consider the French not be very straightforward, you understand what I am saying? We easily consider the French as if they are crooked, we easily consider them as if they are dupes and so on and so forth. They just are good for nothing. So … cricket is English; these are some of the notions that go with this. I don’t know how I best put it for you to understand.44 While such judgments are based on personal experiences of the British and French, they support findings from Francis Nyamnjoh and Ben Page that such articulations from Cameroonians are made through a rhetoric of national characteristics in a difficult postcolonial context: “The French, as a result of their high-profile presence, are seen as particularly exploitative, while the British and Germans by dint of their virtual absence are seen as less aggressive.”45 However, in contrast to Thomas Fletcher, who suggests that some ex-colonial cricket-playing nations engaged in the anticolonial struggle against England, I suggest that Cameroonian cricket offers anglophones a stronghold to reimagine the relationship with Britain by safeguarding elements of British/English values and ideologies. In accordance with this, my research in 2015 suggests that the internal hierarchy at CCF favors anglophones, many of whom have been involved since the federation’s inception: All of the senior administrative positions within the CCF (i.e., national coach, president, secretary-general, assistant to the secretary-general, and national technical adviser) are occupied by anglophones. Having met these individuals previously, I would describe them as middle-class Cameroonians by virtue of their management-related full-time jobs within government ministries, their educational background, the way they dress, and their bilingual ability. Eric, the cricket development officer, is the only francophone that I have met on the CCF board, and he appears to be the main point of contact for the volunteer coaches, who also tend to be francophones.46

50 J. Clarke

Central to the internal power hierarchy is the notion that anglophones understand the game of cricket (and its English/British values) better than francophones, and therefore “insider” and “outsider” groups have formed. If “outsiders” want to be accepted, they must conform to a normative code of “Englishness”—that is, speak the English language. This was apparent in a number of francophones’ responses. For example, Junior, a francophone male, reflected on how involvement in the CCF improved francophones’ ability to be truly bilingual: “Through cricket we have learnt a lot, English terminologies … Eric is getting better and better every day because of his involvement in cricket.”47 While Junior’s comments echo those of many francophones, there were other francophones, including Fabrice, who saw the anglophone-led infrastructure as marginalizing: I see a situation of favoritism. I would say … well, in front of the Anglo-Saxons, I have the feeling of being marginalized; because at this level, if there is, for example, certain advantages or something which can proceed from there … well, the fact that I am strictly francophone, this aspect already keeps me away from certain things.48 Cricket having been created and codified in England, it has been suggested by Neville Cardus: “None except the people of England or of the English‐speaking countries has excelled at cricket. Other nations not obsessed by sport are able to hold their own with us at tennis, golf, football, but cricket is incomprehensible to them, a possession or mystery of a clan, a tribal rite.”49 As Fletcher argues, the English can be seen as taking a great deal of pride from the fact that cricket is neither played, nor its nuances understood, in countries such as France.50

The ideologies of Cameroon cricket Cricket in Cameroon is viewed as a gentlemen’s game that provides an opportunity to build character, integrity, respect, patience, teamwork, and an opportunity to be a role model. Research has shown that cricket offers hope and opportunity for young Cameroonians to become professional cricketers, and in doing so to benefit from overseas travel, money, and stardom. This emerging culture and ideology is seen among Cameroon cricket coaches, administrators, and players. Benjamin suggests that the tangible benefits associated with football are also possible with cricket: “So if cricket is coming, for those who don’t know how to play football, maybe they can play cricket very well and end up making a lot of money for themselves and their families. This will also make them to become a star.”51 Similarly, Christian suggests that cricket offers a way to make a living as a professional player: I believe that there are international cricket players who earn their living from cricket. If a child can come and become an international player, one family might have been helped. One Cameroonian must have been established to feed a family, get a wife, feed his children. By playing for the national side, or why not even in a team somewhere overseas.52

Cameroonian cricket 51

Benjamin and Christian offer examples of and insights into the imagination of cricket propagated by many coaches, administrators, and players. Although Cameroon has yet to produce a cricketer who plays overseas, for the young schoolchildren who take part in cricket leagues organized by the CCF, these imaginations are shared and suggested as tangible dreams.53 In reality, data suggest that cricket is still a relatively unknown sport in Cameroon when compared with sports such as football, athletics, volleyball, basketball, and handball. Many teachers and schoolchildren, particularly in the suburbs of Buea and Yaoundé, were surprised to learn that cricket is actually the name of a game. Representations of cricket ideologies matter because they are used to articulate expressions of personal and organizational culture, all of which reflect a multifaceted and complex postcolonial context. Those who were aware of cricket as a sporting discipline drew a parallel with the well-documented African football ideology that sport, particularly football, is viewed by many as a “way out of Africa.”54

A masculine game In addition to the earlier discussion on culturally based marginalization, findings reveal that gender-based exclusion is also common practice. The sport of cricket has a reputation for being a mainly male-dominated institution worldwide.55 Given that Cameroon is a patriarchal country with social practices and laws overtly discriminating against women, the sporting domain also reflects these values.56 This is summed up by Lionel: “In Cameroon, most people feel that sports is for men. Sports is not for women.”57 Of the 21 interviewees, only two were women, and both held voluntary roles as coaches alongside their paid full-time jobs as sports and physical education teachers. One of the female coaches was also a cricket player and had the added responsibility of developing female participation in Cameroon. Cynthia, a female francophone, sums up some barriers that she faces when trying to involve other women: “They don’t think or see the time to go to schools, to go and teaching sports and so on. They prefer to take care of their children and their homes.”58 In some Cameroonian communities, cultural beliefs prohibit female participation in sport, as Franck disclosed: There are some traditions that totally forbid the female to take part in sporting events, in the way that if they get into sporting events they are going to be fat. They build outwards, that is some beliefs, cultural beliefs, and, two, that there is nothing which sports can bring to a woman. Ok. Thirdly, there is this belief that a woman who gets into sporting activities will not be brought to bed; it will be difficult for her to conceive, to get pregnant. So for this reason, most parents or most traditional cultures, this was an obstacle for women or girls to maybe take in sporting activities. It’s only in the twenty-first century that the few girls who went into sports started making a living out of sports.59

52 J. Clarke

In addition to interviews, field notes reveal an ambiguity about the level of female participation between my personal experiences and what I was being told regarding female participation by male cricket coaches: Listening to many of the male coaches reeling off a list of females involved (with Cameroon cricket) made me a little skeptical. Recalling my previous visits, I have never met any other females except for Cynthia, Caroline, and Nadia. While I appreciate that I am not permanently living in Cameroon and able to gain a full understanding of the daily happenings, my fieldwork and volunteering experiences are supported by the photos and blogs from Cricket For All over the years that I read. These tend to be laden with images of male coaches and administrators; rarely have I seen a picture of female coaches or administrators.60 Traditional cultural values in Cameroon that exclude women from playing sport are coupled with broader hegemonic norms that privilege media coverage of male sport. Traditionally sport, including cricket, has been a male-dominated domain, and women athletes still struggle to get equal media coverage. As Margaret Duncan suggests, the lack of coverage of women’s sport stems from the widely held belief that sport is just for men.61 Cricket is not merely a reflection of the national culture in Cameroon; it also draws on the dominant colonial ideology that cricket is a male sport. When discussing the reasons for the dearth of female cricketers in Cameroon, Florent, a francophone male, said: “From most of what I know about cricket, you know, even in TV when I used to watch, it is always centered towards men.”62 Similarly, Paul, an anglophone male, suggested: “The game I have watched on TV have always been males; I have not seen females. But I think we should also encourage females to play.”63 Many participants got their understanding of cricket from watching it on television. British-owned media are the major outlets that televise cricket globally. In many ways, this media culture reinforces the views of Cameroonians that cricket is a maledominated sport because the vast majority of cricket games shown on global broadcasts involve men’s teams. The fact that sport has a large male following globally has been linked to the patriarchal ideology that divides the social world into dualistic gendered spaces, positions, and traits.64 Within Cameroon, findings suggest that women are discouraged and even restrained from full participation in sporting activities due to the social construction of the roles of women and men.

Association with a British cricket organization and notions of racebased superiority The infrastructure and culture of the CCF is further influenced by the association and partnership with the British cricket development and HIV/AIDS awareness organization Cricket For All.65 The work of Cricket For All is framed within the field of international development and the pursuit of using

Cameroonian cricket 53

sport for nonsporting objectives such as tackling health and social issues—such organizations tend to favor buzzwords such as poverty alleviation, local empowerment, and human rights.66 Contemporary sport-based interventions by organizations such as Cricket For All take place within and against a history of race and colonialization that was echoed by the data from participants, which revealed assumptions of power, race, and knowledge based on their relationship with Cricket For All, which favors a delivery model of sending British volunteers (typically white) to Cameroon twice a year for two-week projects to coach cricket and educate locals on health messages.67 Benjamin reflects on his first encounter with cricket at his school: “Let me just say it is a coincidence that it is a white person who has come for the first time in our school to introduce cricket.”68 Benjamin’s comment links the introduction of cricket to his school with the person who did so: a white man. In his analysis of cricket in postcolonial contexts, Ben Carrington proposes that cricket’s cultural position, which embodies the values of Englishness and its missionary role within British imperialism and colonialism, occupied a central site in many anticolonial struggles within the former empire.69 Similarly, through his analysis of “right to play” international volunteers delivering sports-based interventions in Africa (in a similar manner to Cricket For All), Simon Darnell suggests that the ideologies of sport and development and associated racial encounters serve as a way to (re)construct whiteness as a standpoint of racialized privilege.70 Cameroonian participants shared race-based notions of superiority, suggesting this to be a typical mindset locally. Through a construction of whiteness, participants characteristically positioned British NGO volunteers as having significant knowledge and thus classedthem as “experts” who had the ability to draw attention based on their racial identity in a postcolonial context. This is exemplified in an interview with Samuel, an anglophone Cameroonian: We look at whites like the superior being. We have. We regard you people as a superior being. RESEARCHER: Can you explain why that is? SAMUEL: Oh, all we learn is that if you want to look at the historical way, you see how the whites … the blacks were being controlled by the whites. So blacks have always regarded the whites as a superior being and, more to that, we have been colonized by whites, which means that you people are superior. RESEARCHER: Even now? 71 SAMUEL: Yes, even now, some people still think and treat people like that. SAMUEL:

Eric adds to such assumptions that notions of superiority are purely based on racial grounds and do not consider ability or experience: “There is still that white-skin complex. When they see whites, people believe that it is something grand … It is something that dates right from the colonial period. The white is still superior and it stems from back then; it is still in the minds of people even today.72 Such connotations draw on the colonial cricketing culture. In particular, Jack Williams argues that the

54 J. Clarke

British utilized their global imperial reach and influence as a way to demonstrate their own self‐worth, and inevitably became “intimately bound up with notions of white supremacy.”73 The president of the CCF, Patrick, shares an awareness of how the partnership with foreign organizations and volunteers affects many Cameroonians: Well, that mindset is not a peculiarity [laughs] with the CCF. It happens with, it’s just the Cameroonian, the African mindset that when you have things to do with people from the UK, white people, they think you are better off than people who don’t have these kind of opportunities.74

Personal benefits from an association with “the whites” There is a further subtheme to these testimonies—namely, that association with a British NGO and its white British volunteers offers the opportunity for organizational and personal benefits. For Patrick, his interest in capitalizing on wider organizational benefits is evidence of his being “mindful of the huge influence that the white color has within an African milieu.” He was aware “of the possibility of CWB passing through the diplomatic channels.”75 The prospect for Cricket For All to navigate with diplomats, specifically the British High Commission and British companies in Cameroon, appeals to the CCF president because of the potential social and economic benefits to the federation. From a personal perspective, Samuel, a volunteer coach and local schoolteacher, shared how his association with the NGO was rewarded by his head teacher: My boss called for me one day. He gave me an envelope of money, thanking me that I’ve really, like, made him to be happy by me bringing foreigners and sensitize in his school or to come and teach cricket. So some of them were just taking pictures with him … They were happy.76 Cameroonian volunteers and staff manipulate their associations with an international NGO for personal and organizational gain by drawing on the colonial residue and mindset of their compatriots.

Conclusion This chapter has demonstrated how the culture and ideologies of the CCF have been shaped by Cameroon’s complex colonial past. The splintering Cameroonian identity may well be a consequence of the political and cultural strategies adopted since the independence of Cameroon in 1961. Identities formed and negotiated in complex ways during the separation of French Cameroon and British Cameroon have continued to be the source of tension in modern-day reunified Cameroon. Francophone Cameroonians dominate the nation in population, and subsequently anglophone Cameroonians view themselves as marginalized citizens. The introduction of the English game of cricket in a francophone-dominant society has

Cameroonian cricket 55

allowed anglophone Cameroonians a space in which to celebrate certain notions of Englishness and Britishness amidst a postcolonial and culturally divided Cameroon. The production of such “imagined communities” has resulted in a cricket culture that instills masculinity, Britishness/Englishness, and “whiteness”/race-based uperiority—some of which ideologies are often drawn on by CCF coaches and volunteers for personal gain. Cricket in Cameroon is widely seen as a sport for men, who thus occupy the majority of the roles within the federation, in management and as coaches and/or players. Middle-class anglophone males in particular hold the most powerful and strategic positions within the organization, from which they are able to impose power within the wider organizational culture and infrastructure. For some Cameroonians, the nature of cricket both nourishes the imaginings of a home “elsewhere” and makes “homely” the alien spaces of the here and now.77 Cameroonians, especially anglophone Cameroonians, have developed a fondness for cricket and have played with its meanings, fusing it with indigenous ideologies alongside traditional notions of Englishness. Anglophones often feel excluded in Cameroonian society, and so through cricket they are able to draw on their British ties as a way to gain social integration, respect, power, and personal benefit. Through an association with a British NGO, Cricket For All, the CCF has (perhaps unknowingly) instilled a growing local ideology that appears to embed the position of white British volunteers as the “experts” and Cameroonian teachers and coaches as “recipients” or “pupils.” It could be suggested that such encounters between beneficiaries and experts reproduce relations of inferiority and superiority.78 Such indigenous ideologies may run the risk of being counterproductive and contrary to the intentions of Cricket For All—in fact leading to broad disempowerment. The ideology associated with the new game of cricket in Cameroon may offer a contemporary example of the notion that sport remains an imperial bond of cultural encounters between Britain and its former colonies.79 A cultural affinity for the British persists in Cameroon through cricket, a sport that exists in a diminutive minority status in the country because of its anglophone connection. However, being relatively new to Cameroon, cricket was not a part of the colonial experience, and thus is not seen as a means to “discipline” colonial subjects. Rather, it has developed as a postcolonial phenomenon orchestrated largely by anglophone Cameroonians as a way to differentiate themselves from francophones—a cultural appropriation to justify belonging in a country where many feel they don’t belong.

Notes 1 Thomas Fletcher, “Cricket, Migration and Diasporic Communities,” Identities 22, no. 2 (2015): 141–53. 2 Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism, rev. ed. (London: Verso Books, 2006). 3 Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, “Can the Subaltern Speak?,” in Can the Subaltern Speak?: Reflections on the History of an Idea, ed. Rosalind C. Morris (New York: Columbia University Press, 2010), 21–78.

56 J. Clarke

4 Joanne Clarke and John Sunday Ojo, “Sport Policy in Cameroon,” International Journal of Sport Policy and Politics 9, no. 1 (2017): 1–12. 5 Laarry Uchenna, “Cameroon: Anglophones Marginalization—an Incurable Disease,” Cameroon Concord (May 2, 2016), accessed January 27, 2017, http://cameroon-concord. com/5861-cameroon-anglophones-marginalization-an-incurable-disease. 6 Piet Konings and Francis B. Nyamnjoh, “The Anglophone Problem in Cameroon,” Journal of Modern African Studies 35, no. 2 (1997): 207–29. 7 John Percival, The 1961 Cameroon Plebiscite: Choice or Betrayal (Bamenda, CM: Langaa Research and Publishing Common Initiative Group [hereafter cited as Langaa RPCIG], 2008), 1–15; Obiamaka Egbo, Nwakoby Ifeoma, Onwumere Josaphat, and Uche Chibuike, Legitimizing Corruption in Government: Security Votes in Nigeria (Leiden: African Studies Centre, 2010), 8–10. 8 Peter Tse Angwafo, Cameroon’s Predicaments (Bamenda, CM: Langaa RPCIG, 2014), 22–170. 9 Piet Konings and Francis B. Nyamnjoh, Negotiating an Anglophone Identity: A Study of the Politics of Recognition and Representation in Cameroon (Leiden: Brill, 2003). 10 Ibid., 1:2–3. 11 Konings and Nyamnjoh, “Anglophone Problem in Cameroon,” 207. 12 Ibid., 217–18. 13 Moki Kindzeka, “Labor Unrest in Cameroon after Clashes over Language Discrimination,” Deutsche Welle (November 28, 2016), accessed January 27, 2017, http://www.dw.com/en/ labor-unrest-in-cameroon-after-clashes-over-language-discrimination/a-36551592. 14 Piet Konings and Francis B. Nyamnjoh, “Construction and Deconstruction: Anglophones or Autochtones?,” African Anthropologist 7, no. 1 (2000): 5–32. 15 Eyong Blaise Okie, “Cameroon Urged to Investigate Deaths amid Anglophone Protests,” The Guardian ( January 5, 2017), accessed January 18, 2017, https://www.theguardian. com/world/2016/dec/13/cameroon-urged-investigate-clashes-anglophone-regions. 16 Garry Crawford, “Consuming Sport: Fans, Sport and Culture,” International Journal of Sports Marketing and Sponsorship 6, no. 2 (2004): 47–62. 17 Anderson, Imagined Communities, 1. 18 Ibid., 7. 19 Ibid., 6. 20 Stephen Wagg, Cricket and National Identity in the Postcolonial Age: Following On (London: Routledge, 2005); Dominic Malcolm, Alan Bairner, and Graham Curry, “Cricket and Cultural Difference,” in Cricket and Globalization, ed. Chris Rumford and Stephen Wagg (Newcastle‐upon‐Tyne: Cambridge Scholars, 2010). 21 Subhas Ranjan Chakraborty, Shantanu Chakrabarti, and Kingshuk Chatterjee, “Introduction: Fields of Power,” in The Politics of Sport in South Asia, ed. Subhas Ranjan Chakraborty (London: Routledge, 2013), 1–7. 22 Anshuman Prasad, “The Gaze of the Other: Postcolonial Theory and Organizational Analysis,” in Postcolonial Theory and Organizational Analysis: A Critical Engagement, ed. Anshuman Prasad (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003), 1–15. 23 Edward Said, Orientalism (New York: Vintage 1978), 1–28; Homi Bhabha, The Location of Culture (New York: Routledge, 1994), 194–6. 24 Oscar Mwaanga and Davies Banda, “A Postcolonial Approach to Understanding SportBased Empowerment of People Living with HIV/AIDS (PLWHA) in Zambia: The Case of the Cultural Philosophy of Ubuntu,” Journal of Disability & Religion 18, no. 2 (2014): 173–91. 25 Jon Gemmell, “All White Mate?: Cricket and Race in Oz,” Sport in Society 10, no. 1 (2007): 33–48. 26 Charlyn Dyers and Jane-Francis Abongdia, “An Exploration of the Relationship between Language Attitudes and Ideologies in a Study of Francophone Students of English in Cameroon,” Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development 31, no. 2 (2010): 119–34; Dickson Eyoh, “Through the Prism of a Local Tragedy: Political Liberalisation, Regionalism and Elite Struggles for Power in Cameroon,” Africa 68, no. 3 (1998): 338–59.

Cameroonian cricket 57

27 International Cricket Council, “Cameroon,” accessed January 15, 2017, https://www. icc-cricket.com/about/members/africa/associate/84 28 Ibid. 29 Ibid. 30 Cricket For All, “Cameroon,” 2015, accessed January 27, 2017, http://www.crick etwithoutboundaries.com/cameroon. 31 Paul Lavrakas, ed., Encyclopedia of Survey Research Methods (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 2008). 32 Virginia Braun and Victoria Clarke, “Using Thematic Analysis in Psychology,” Qualitative Research in Psychology 3, no. 2 (2006): 77–101; John W. Creswell, Qualitative Inquiry and Research Design: Choosing among Five Approaches (London: Sage, 2012); Nigel King, “Template Analysis,” in Qualitative Methods and Analysis in Organizational Research: A Practical Guide, ed. Gillian Symon and Catherine Cassell (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 1998), 118–34. 33 Cyril Lionel Robert James, Beyond a Boundary (1963, reprint; London: Yellow Jersey Press, 2005). 34 Jack Williams, Cricket and England: A Cultural and Social History of Cricket in England between the Wars (London: Frank Cass, 2003). 35 Cyril Lionel Robert James, introduction to Beyond a Boundary. 36 “Jeremy” (CCF), communication with the author, June 2016. 37 “Patrick” (CCF), communication with the author, June 2016. 38 Thomas Hajkowski, The BBC and National Identity in Britain, 1922–1953 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010). 39 Emmanuel Fru Doh, Nomads: The Memoirs of a Southern Cameroonian (Bamenda, CM: Langaa RPCIG, 2013). 40 “Franck” (CCF), communication with the author, July 2016. 41 “Benjamin” (CCF), communication with the author, June 2016. 42 Nakinti Nofuru, “World Cup Gives Cameroon’s English Speakers Respite from Marginalization in Mostly Francophone Nation,” Global Press Journal (June 25, 2014), accessed January 27, 2017, https://globalpressjournal.com/africa/cameroon/world-cup -gives-cameroon-s-english-speakers-respite-from-marginalization-in-mostly-francop hone-nation. 43 “Lionel” (CCF), communication with the author, July 2016. 44 “Romeo” (CCF), communication with the author, November 2015. 45 Francis Nyamnjoh and Ben Page, “Whiteman Kontri and the Enduring Allure of Modernity among Cameroonian Youth,” African Affairs 101, no. 405 (2002): 607–34. 46 Author’s field notes, Yaoundé, Cameroon, November 2015. 47 “Junior” (CCF), communication with the author, December 2015. 48 “Fabrice” (CCF), communication with the author, July 2016. 49 Neville Cardus, English Cricket (London: Collins, 1945), 93: 7. 50 Fletcher, “Cricket, Migration and Diasporic Communities,” 146. 51 “Benjamin” (CCF), communication with the author, December 2015. 52 “Christian” (CCF), communication with the author, June 2016. 53 Author’s field notes, Yaoundé, Cameroon, July 2016. 54 Paul Darby, “Out of Africa: The Exodus of Elite African Football Talent to Europe,” Working USA 10, no. 4 (2007): 443–56; Paul Darby and Eirik Solberg. “Differing Trajectories: Football Development and Patterns of Player Migration in South Africa and Ghana,” Soccer and Society 11, nos. 1/2 (2010): 118–30; Sine Agergaard and Vera Botelho, “The Way Out?: African Players’ Migration to Scandinavian Women’s Football,” Sport in Society 17, no. 4 (2014): 523–36. 55 Ken Dempsey, “Women’s Life and Leisure in an Australian Rural Community,” Leisure Studies 9, no. 1 (1990): 35–44; Shona M. Thompson, “‘Thank the Ladies for the Plates’: The Incorporation of Women into Sport,” Leisure Studies 9, no. 2 (1990): 135–43. 56 Lilian Lem Atanga, Gender, Discourse and Power in the Cameroonian Parliament (Cameroon: African Books Collective, 2010).

58 J. Clarke

57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79

“Lionel” (CCF), communication with the author, November 2015. “Cynthia” (CCF), communication with the author, July 2016. “Franck” (CCF), communication with the author, December 2015. Author’s field notes, Yaoundé, Cameroon, June 2016. Margaret Carlisle Duncan, “Gender Warriors in Sport: Women and the Media,” in Handbook of Sports and Media, ed. Arthur Raney and Jennings Bryant (London: Routledge, 2006), 231–52. “Florent” (CCF), communication with the author, July 2016. “Paul” (CCF), communication with the author, December 2015. Sheila Scraton and Anne Flintoff, eds., Gender and Sport: A Reader (London: Psychology Press, 2002). Cricket For All, “What We Do,” 2015, accessed January 27, 2017, http://www.crick etwithoutboundaries.com/what-we-do. Fred Coalter, introduction to Sport for Development: What Game Are We Playing? (London: Routledge, 2013); Andrea Cornwall and Deborah Eade, eds., Deconstructing Development Discourse: Buzzwords and Fuzzwords (Rugby, UK: Practical Action Publishing, 2010), 19–29. Author’s field notes, Yaoundé, Cameroon, June 2016. “Benjamin” (CCF), communication with the author, November 2015. Ben Carrington, “Sport, masculinity, and black cultural resistance,” Journal of Sport & Social Issues 22, no. 3 (1998): 275–98. Simon Darnell, “Playing with Race: Right to Play and the Production of Whiteness in ‘Development through Sport,’” Sport in Society 10, no. 4 (2007): 560–79. “Samuel” (CCF), communication with the author, July 2016). “Eric” (CCF), communication with the author, December 2015). Jack Williams, Cricket and Race (London: Berg, 2001), 18. “Patrick” (CCF), communication with the author, December 2015). “Patrick” (CCF), communication with the author, December 2015). “Samuel” (CCF), communication with the author, July 2016. Parvathi Raman, “‘It’s Because We’re Indian, Innit?’: Cricket and the South Asian Diaspora in Post-war Britain,” Identities 22, no. 2 (2015): 215–29. Tshepo Madlingozi, “On Transitional Justice Entrepreneurs and the Production of Victims,” Journal of Human Rights Practice 2, no. 2 (2010): 208–28. Mary G. McDonald, “Troubling Gender and Sexuality in Sport Studies,” in Routledge Handbook of Sport, Gender and Sexuality, ed. Jennifer Hargreaves and Eric Anderson (London: Routledge, 2014): 151–9.

4 POLITICAL ACTION IN SPORTS DEVELOPMENT DURING THE NATIONAL LIBERATION COUNCIL ERA IN GHANA Kwame Adum-Kyeremeh

Introduction This chapter examines the development of sports in Ghana in the 1960s. It reveals that the Convention People’s Party (CPP) government developed a deep interest in sporting activities in Ghana, establishing the Central Organization of Sports (COS) and a director of sports whose duties included the popularization of Kwame Nkrumah’s ideas of black Africa’s capabilities, Pan-Africanism, and African unity through sports. By the time of Nkrumah’s overthrow in 1966, the national football team, heavily financed by his administration, had played at home and away against several world-class football teams and had won three trophies in continental football competitions, and other awards. The Republikans, Academicals, and other model clubs had been formed, and Ghanaians had become well known globally for their football prowess. Several Ghanaians believed, however, that although sports had helped to promote peace, unity, and civility in Ghana, the COS was associated with nepotism, misuse of public funds, and overspending; nevertheless, it must also be credited with contributing to sports development in Ghana. The COS was thoroughly investigated after Nkrumah’s overthrow in February 1966. Using archival data, newspaper items, and oral interviews, this chapter examines the background to Nkrumah’s interest in sports development in Ghana and the effects of the politicization of sports in the 1960s. I will argue forcefully that the politicization of sports during the Nkrumah regime provided short-term benefits but complex long-term problems.

Historiographical context In recent years, there has been an increase in historical scholarship on sports that explores different aspects of the socioeconomic and political lives of people in

60 K. Adum-Kyeremeh

various parts of the world. There is now a considerable amount of expertise nationally and internationally in the social, scientific, and cultural analysis of sport in relation to the economy and society more generally. Contemporary research topics such as sports and social justice, science and technology and sport, global social movement and sport, mega sports events, sports participation and engagement, and the role of sport in social development, suggest that sport and social relations need to be understood in non-Western developing economies, as well as European, North American, and other capitalist societies. This idea emerges in the existing literature, including David Rowe’s Global Media Sport and Packianathan Chelladurai’s Managing Organizations for Sport and Physical Activity. 1 Other important works include Paul Darby’s Africa, Football and FIFA. Darby’s book in particular examines the complex and contested nature of governance of the world’s most popular sporting activity.2 Ken Bediako’s The Complete History of the Ghana Football League traces the chronological development of the Ghana Football League from 1958 to 2012.3 This study is quite useful as it provides substantial information on a year-by-year basis on the Ghana Football League. Although the book is of some historical value to followers of football in Ghana, helping us to know most of the exciting events, it neglects the study of other sports in Ghana and, in particular, the administrative structure behind the organization of Ghana’s soccer league. These studies, including Peter Alegi’s African Soccerscapes, examine how Africans have benefited in diverse ways from their engagement in sports. These scholars argue that Africans have used sports to attain various objectives, whether as a tool to resist colonial rule or as a means to create an African identity and improve the status of Africans around the world.4 These studies help us to understand the strategies people used to create national identity and to understand the benefits from engaging in sports. These positive contributions notwithstanding, the literature fails to address the significance of government participation in sports development; a lack that this chapter attempts to address. I believe sports development, and the mismanagement of institutions associated with it, in postindependence African societies is worthy of study. Emphasis on this topic may help contemporary administrators to avoid repeating past mistakes in both private and public institutions.

Nkrumah, the COS, and sports development Ghana’s attainment of republican status on July 1, 1960 marked a turning point in the nation’s history, affecting all areas of Ghanaian society, including the management of sports. The Central Organization of Sports was created to replace the Gold Coast Amateur Sports Council (GCASC). The main aim of this change was to speed up sports development in Ghana, and thus to use sports to display anti-imperialism, enhance Ghana’s image, and promote Pan-Africanism and African unity. The COS was mandated to develop sports throughout the country and to train sports officials toward this end.5 Unlike the GCASC, the COS was made responsible for the promotion and organization of sports at both amateur and professional levels, and to ensure the effective execution of the former council’s duties. Ohene Djan was

Political action in sports in Ghana 61

appointed the first executive director of COS, with A.E. Sampson as deputy director. Five new departments were established—namely, administration and development projects, training and sports, functions and finance, international affairs, and publicity. The COS had a staff of more than 1,500, including 15 clerical workers, in 1961. Unlike in the pre-COS era, where proposals were always discussed with members of the GCASC before acceptance and implementation, this practice was nonexistent in the setup of the COS. This meant that the cumbersome decision-making process involving consultations that had slowed down the council’s work was avoided. Programs and activities were expedited in the COS. For example, between September and December 1961, Ohene Djan unilaterally sent ten regional sports organizers to East Germany (GDR) and Czechoslovakia for various courses in coaching before they were reassigned to the various regions of Ghana.6 Again in 1965, the organization sent eight sportsmen to the GDR to undertake eight months of studies at the Leipzig Physical Training Centre.7 As part of its activities, the COS initiated an annual award for the best sportsmen and best sportswomen, entitled Osagyefo’s Meritorious Award for the most Distinguished Sportsmen (OMAMDS).8 Through financial backing by the CPP, the COS also commenced construction of the Koforidua and Nkawkaw sports stadia in 1961 at an estimated total cost of £72,000.9 Following the appointment of Edward Acquah as manager of the Black Stars and József Ember as the first foreign national coach, Ghana won the West Africa Gold Cup in 1962, the Nkrumah Cup in 1963 in Accra, and the 1965 Africa Cup of Nations in Tunisia. In 1965 alone, the COS spent NC339,000 on soccer, while Kojo Botsio, minister of foreign affairs, worked in the organization as the chair of the Ghana Football Association.10 On orders from Nkrumah, Djan formed the Real Republikans football club, also referred to as Osagyefo’s Own Team, as a second national team “to be ready to play any nation at a moment’s notice.” Although the formation of this team was deemed to have robbed top football clubs of their best players and was persistently opposed by the affected clubs, it instilled a spirit of intense competition in Ghanaian sports development.11 The COS also created an opportunity for sportsmen and women of the various universities in Ghana to educate high school students about the merits of physical education and sports.

Improvements in coaching Toward attaining COS’s basic objectives, Ohene Djan also prioritized coaching and training of sportsmen. In collaboration with the Ghana Amateur Football Association, the COS engaged the services of experienced foreign coaches for hockey, athletics, cricket, and boxing between 1961 and 1966, sometimes with two or more coaches engaged for one sport. For example, Djan’s administration employed three foreign football coaches to train the Ghana Black Stars and two athletic coaches to train the national athletes in Accra and in various schools in major towns and villages across Ghana. It was not uncommon, for instance, for an athletics coach to assist in the training of footballers and vice versa. For COS, this was necessary for the rapid development of all forms of sports in Ghana.

62 K. Adum-Kyeremeh

Professional coaches spent their time organizing seminars, courses, and training for local coaches. Training and coaching courses were encouraged for football, athletics, and boxing, but participation was low for other sports. Coupled with the lack of facilities for training coaches in Ghana, the policy to revamp sports through coaching had little impact on the lesser-known sports in Ghana, including hockey, badminton, cricket, and volleyball. To improve this situation, Ohene Djan introduced a program to train prospective coaches abroad; upon their return, the director posted them to the regional capitals as regional sports coaches. It was common knowledge that sports clubs that received coaching services performed better than those without coaches. Government, individuals, and the general public financially supported the welfare of local coaches as well as the employment of foreign coaches. For football players in particular, the COS engaged the services of George Ainsley, an English coach, as Ghana’s first professional football coach. Later, it employed other professional coaches. As the government aimed to harness human resources across Ghana to train as coaches, it engaged C.K. Gyamfi, the first Ghanaian professional coach, as the first national youth football (colts) coach in 1962. Gyamfi was allotted funds to travel frequently to different parts of Ghana. In and around Accra, coaches trained young, inexperienced players, called colts, at the Achimota, Nsawam, and Burma camp parks, and at the Accra sports stadium. From 1960 to 1963, these professional coaches trained players in exercise, stamina building, endurance, and fluidity in play. By 1966, Ghana had won the Ghana–Nigeria annual bilateral athletic competitions as well as the Uhuru Cup. In the case of discipline in the organization of sports, the Djan administration drafted constitutions and by-laws and set up standing committees at regional and national levels. Persons or clubs found guilty of misconduct were fined, suspended, or forced to withdraw from sports associations. Djan drafted a two-year program of activities for sports development and designed plans to improve them, while a central planning committee was set up to develop “sporting clubs.” In boxing, he settled the dispute between the Ghana Boxing Board of Control and boxing commissioners; and in athletics, he introduced a sports program for secondary schools and training colleges. Djan also organized refresher courses for sports officials, and established advisory councils and sports units in the universities. Alongside these initiatives was the introduction of a monthly sports magazine aimed at popularizing sports and thereby speeding up sports development. Under Ohene Djan, the national soccer league and other leagues were firmly instituted with the commencement of the promotion and relegation of teams that instilled stiff competition among league clubs. Through COS’s “Sporting Club” policy, the various football clubs were mandated to form athletics, tennis, and hockey clubs to play on the same day and at the same venue as the football teams. The original idea was to create the opportunity for football fans to watch and develop interest in these lesser-known sports. Under Djan, sporting clubs received awards for excellent performances. For example, Kumasi Asante Kotoko received money and a set of jerseys from the administration following an impressive performance in the

Political action in sports in Ghana 63

1963–64 league season.12 The Master of Sports and similar awards were aimed at encouraging sportsmen and women to excel in their respective fields. With respect to youth development, the second division league and the colts’ competition prepared them to take over from their senior colleagues. New programs were initiated aiming to increase the number of sports competitions and to commence regional sports meetings at elementary schools and training colleges. The national sports festival was introduced in all schools, and for the first time, a major sporting event took place in the northern part of the country.13 Ohene Djan also introduced the Champion of Champions and Knock Out competitions for all football clubs, while boxing was organized as a sport in secondary schools in the early 1960s. Djan’s expectations for increasing competitions were threefold: to provide entertainment for sports fans; to motivate sportsmen and sportswomen in their respective fields; and to help talented youth to reach the highest levels of their chosen sport. Accordingly, the COS allowed young athletes to participate in the various national competitions, and those who excelled were selected and included in national teams to participate in friendly international sports competitions. Older sportsmen were sent abroad to train as coaches and as sports organizers. Closely related to this was the introduction of the Best Sportsman award, which recognized excellent sportsmen on and off the fields of play. Experts such as Dr. Nkansah Djan and other physicians were engaged to conduct regular medical checkups on athletes and to organize public lectures on FIFA rules. In boxing, the Fighter of the Month Award was introduced in 1963, while the COS’s policy to permit amateur boxers to turn professional was vigorously pursued. Pursuant to his objective to reorganize sports through fair officiating, Ohene Djan supported the Referees Association to regulate members’ conduct, to punish deviants, and to prevent premature exodus of athletes to play abroad. In his administration, football clubs were mandated to register their jerseys, and the suspension, demotion, and fining of players for double registration was enforced. Regulations were made to prevent small clubs from using the names of big football clubs in Ghana, including Hearts, Kotoko, and Standfast. Additionally, rowdy fans were arraigned before the law courts and fined heavily to deter misconduct and bad behavior during matches. On this issue, Ohene Djan registered a team from the Ghana army to play in the soccer league in the belief this would instill discipline in sports. Djan also instituted the Referees Confidential Report and a referees’ committee to be responsible for studying referees’ reports, and for recommending appropriate punishments for culprits. Subcommittees were set up to select referees to ensure neutrality and fairness in officiating. Overall, the number of Ghanaians who became FIFA referees during the era of the COS increased from one in 1960 to five in 1966. In addition to Djan’s policy for domestic sports development, he promoted international sports competitions to improve the exchange of ideas between Ghanaian and non-Ghanaian sportsmen. The immediate postindependence era therefore witnessed Ghana’s engagement in regular international competitions in football, athletics, hockey, and tennis. Between 1960 and 1966 the amateur Black Stars team played Real Madrid, A.C. Milan, and West Ham in Accra. The Black Stars played Germany and

64 K. Adum-Kyeremeh

Russia in 1961 and 1962, respectively, and Ghana participated in the Africa Cup championship matches in football. Ghanaian teams also participated in the Commonwealth Games and Olympic Games, and individual Ghanaians featured in many international competitions in tennis, athletics, hockey, and cricket. Djan’s model clubs, including the Horizons, Real Ghana, Ghana Cornerstones, Hassacas, and Real Republikans became formidable clubs in Ghana in the early 1960s. Through Djan’s sports-promotion policy, in 1960 the administration established a stadia committee to administer parks and stadia. Over time, the committee promoted the building of stadia in Kumasi, Takoradi, Swedru, Nkawkaw, and other parts of Ghana. Ghana introduced the marathon race, formed the athletics division of the Black Stars, and attempted to introduce and popularize badminton, shooting, swimming, and volleyball. In collaboration with the CPP government, the Djan administration provided buses for fans to watch local football matches and airplanes to fly spectators to international matches at low fares. To encourage aging sportsmen to actively devote their time and energy to Ghana’s sports development, Djan engaged retired sportsmen as coaches and sports organizers. It is no wonder the new policies caused significant changes in the organization and administration of sports. It is said, for example, that although the Ministry of Education had oversight responsibility for the activities of the COS, Djan reported directly to the Office of the President and thus avoided the bureaucratic red tape that had hindered the work of the GCASC. With the freedom to handle affairs at the COS, Djan built a large establishment of paid staff, including coaches whom he appointed for the various games at national and regional levels. His office introduced end-of-year sporting banquets and receptions, which were often attended by President Nkrumah, members of the CPP, and other important government officials. The question of player motivation was also taken very seriously. For example, when in 1962 members of the Republikans football club were involved in a motor accident at Kpeve, in the Volta region of Ghana, Baba Yara, a key player of the team who sustained grave injuries, was immediately flown abroad for medical treatment at the expense of the COS. The organization replaced Yara’s belongings that were stolen from his residence; allowed him to stay in a government bungalow for free; and accorded him the number 12 position of the Republikans team, in recognition of his contribution to sports in Ghana. Although incapacitated following the accident, Yara received the same honors and awards the COS accorded to all serving sportsmen and sportswomen in Ghana. In addition, Ohene Djan, with the CPP government’s support, regularly hosted sportsmen as special guests of honor at important national functions and often paraded sportsmen through streets, at the government’s expense, in recognition of their sterling performances in international competitions. To develop sports other than football, football authorities canceled Saturday matches. This allowed the lesser-known games, scheduled for Saturdays, to afford many more people the opportunity to play as well as watch their matches. Government support for sports development significantly encouraged women’s participation in sports, which had been very low in preindependence times. By 1961, Ghana had produced its first woman football referee.

Political action in sports in Ghana 65

It was also in this era that the national boxing team (Black Bombers) and the national athletics team (Black Arrows) were formed, paving the way for Ghana to become the first sub-Saharan African country to participate in the Olympic Games. Ghana also became the first champion of the continent’s football cup competition in 1962, a championship it won again in 1963 and 1965. Ghana organized its first Commonwealth boxing title fight in 1964, watched by Nkrumah and his wife, who often watched other sporting tournaments and also donated trophies, awards, and prizes to be competed for by Ghanaian and other African clubs. Nkrumah personally financed individuals to study sports administration abroad, and sponsored teams to play in continental and world competitions. Convention People’s Party government officials voluntarily joined sports committees and committees of inquiry on sports, and became executive members and patrons of clubs and associations. Apart from constructing some popular stadia and parks, President Nkrumah also used his Independence Day addresses to educate Ghanaians about the importance of physical education. For instance, Nkrumah’s 1961 address mentions the benefits of sports to Ghana and especially to the nation’s youth. This suggests that the CPP regarded as crucial the role of government in the development of sports in Ghana. Nkrumah believed that Ghana’s independence would be meaningless unless sportsmen excelled in international tournaments. This stated goal inspired patriotic sportsmen to strive to fulfill the president’s wishes. With respect to discipline in sports, the director of the COS abolished the “reserved seat” system introduced in the 1950s by the GCASC as a means of preventing fraud and to promote accountability in the selling of tickets.14 The government regulation of 1960 by which Nkrumah appointed Ohene Djan as director of sports had urged the drafting of policies to develop sports in Ghana. Djan appears to have adhered strictly to this recommendation. Nkrumah’s interest in sports development was exemplified in his speech at the opening of the Kumasi Sports Stadium on February 20, 1960, when the president stressed Ghanaians’ wish to be numbered among the best in the world of sports. He believed that sports could not only contribute toward young people’s growth through improving their physical fitness, but could also play a great part in the development of unity and understanding between the regions of Ghana. In Nkrumah’s view, sports, like art, culture, and science, transcends territorial boundaries. Through competitions with other African states, Nkrumah believed sports could provide the necessary basis for mutual understanding. This he considered necessary to ensure the realization of unity in Africa, and an opportunity to offer the youth of Africa a platform to meet on the field of sport in one another’s country. Nkrumah believed that, through sports, youths would learn what their elders were prevented from learning—namely, that all Africans are brothers with a common destiny. Nkrumah also believed that the interchange of sports and cultural activities could create a healthy atmosphere for African unity and independence. Indeed, for purposes of Pan-Africanism, Nkrumah donated the Gold Cup for a West African football competition and announced his intention to promote an African Olympiad at which athletes from all parts of Africa, as well as athletes of African descent from

66 K. Adum-Kyeremeh

all over the world, would lay the foundation to bring all Africans together on the field of sports.15 However, by 1966, when the military toppled him as president of Ghana, Nkrumah’s noble vision had not been realized. On the contrary, the coup leaders initiated an in-depth inquiry into his administration and that of the COS, which deserves to be thoroughly discussed.

Findings of investigative bodies The Auditor General’s Report of 1967 revealed that the provisions of section 1(2) of Executive Instrument No. 17 of January 25, 1964, which required that the Central Organization of Sports should be run by the director of sports and four other members to be appointed by Nkrumah, had been completely ignored. The four members were never appointed, and Ohene Djan exclusively directed the organization’s affairs. No written administrative or financial directives existed to guide the director, which led to a complete breakdown in control of the organization’s finances, and the perpetration of serious financial irregularities. These included a case of collusion between the central controller of tickets, a district functions officer, and ticket sellers for the circulation of unauthorized tickets; admission of spectators without tickets on payment of tips to the gatekeeper; tearing of tickets in two so that the half retained by the gatekeeper could be reissued to another fan for the same face value; and issuing of several passes to representatives of various agencies with the requirement that they work during matches. Records essential for sound financial management were never kept.16 Accordingly, the circulation of unauthorized tickets was a common practice. This was particularly so as entertainments were exempted from taxation in the period when revenue collection was vested in the commissioner of income tax. The commissioner issued tickets to all forms of public entertainment before the introduction of an entertainment duty in Ghana.17 Additionally, provision was not made for the approval of estimates, which would control expenditure, and so the director had an absolutely free hand to incur expenses to any extent and for any purpose. Thus, from 1962, Ohene Djan ran the affairs of the COS single-handedly without any restrictions on expenditure. For example, the organization spent £37,000 on the celebration of Founders’ Day and the Commonwealth Games in 1962. Between 1960 and 1966, government subsidies to the COS amounted to £553,334. In addition, in solidarity with other African countries, much money was wasted through sports. For example, the Pan-African Sports magazine published by the COS was produced at a cost of £33,016 but yielded only £2,217 as income from sales. The misappropriation of funds and wasteful expenditures extended to victory bonuses for the Real Republikans costing up to NC20,000. Also misappropriated were donations from the United African Company in the amounts of NC300 and NC310 presented to the COS in 1964.18 The COS was found to have been associated with several instances of fraud, serious irregularities, financial losses, and infringement of the Exchange Control Act.19 For instance, in connection with the Olympic Games held in Tokyo in 1964, Ohene Djan obtained foreign currency for £17,500, while the actual

Political action in sports in Ghana 67

amount needed for use in Tokyo was £7,500: Djan was found to have diverted £10,925 for his own use. His administration dissipated the COS’s funds not only through wasteful expenditure, but by lavishing monetary or material gifts, including television sets, on his favorite sportsmen. In one case, a paid official of the COS received a TV set and a special bonus of NC360 “for the success of the Black Stars’ group in Tunis.”20 Not guided by any policy decision, Djan often paid varied “handsome victory bonuses” to members of winning teams. In 1965, Ohene Djan received £5,000 for Baba Yara, being partial payment of the total compensation from his insurers following the latter’s accident, and failed to pay this into COS’s account.21 Gestures to COS officials were allegedly overdone, as the staff received handsome salaries that did not bear any clear relationship to their official duties.22 Due to gross administrative laxity and loopholes in the organization’s financial control, bank reconciliations were not regularly effected by the COS accountant, and the auditor general had hardly any access to the large number of payment vouchers for inspection. By 1966, there existed numerous outstanding debit balances, of which three, involving car advances, were in dispute for one reason or another, and receipts were unavailable for several payments.23 One irregular COS expenditure included an advance of £150 paid to the United Arab Republic and Sudanese teams during the African Clubs Championship Series in 1963, which remained unrecovered; teams received their players’ and officials’ allowances without any deductions.24 The COS under Djan received an average annual government subvention of £145,130 from 1962 to 1965 and average annual gate earnings and other income amounting to £265,058.25 Except for a temporary cessation in the 1962–63 fiscal year, the organization received grants regularly from the central government, with the highest being £233,500 in 1960–61 and the lowest £115,160 in 1961–62.26 Despite these huge outlays, by April 1966 when Djan was removed and the COS accounts were frozen, the COS was heavily indebted to a number of organizations and firms and had a bank overdraft of NC60,000, which was incurred on account of the Sugar Ramos–Floyd Robertson world featherweight fight in 1964. With respect to the sporting club system, the level of dissatisfaction with COS had grown to such an extent that, by 1965, only three of the ten regional sports organizers originally appointed were still at their posts. These organizers felt that working in the COS did not give them any security as the organization had no clearly defined terms and conditions of service for its employees; no proper salary scales; and workers could be removed at any time without any means of appeal.27 Besides, the director’s policies were known only to himself, and COS regional organizers were not given the necessary funds to work with. At the same time, some of the officers of the COS were allegedly treated better than others, and the basis for promotions and salary increases were haphazard. These poor working conditions discouraged officials of the organization from giving their best efforts in the promotion of sports in Ghana.28 Ohene Djan’s “mass participation for sports development in entirety” program enabled male and female athletes to secure jobs in the Farmers Council, the Workers Brigade, and the COS. Also, students were constituted into one massive

68 K. Adum-Kyeremeh

federation. The rationale was to use these institutions as nurseries for national teams in the various sports. However, the COS did not provide adequate playing grounds, equipment, and proper coaching for these educational institutions. School and college sports under Djan became unduly rowdy, as the very young were unevenly matched against older youths.29 Another example of Djan’s corruption can be found in the way he treated the media. Journalists at Djan’s weekly press interviews were originally provided refreshments, which were later replaced by distribution of cash among his press supporters.30 The controversy surrounding Djan as director of the COS was such that Nkrumah should have dismissed him, but the president continued to support him. Despite the numerous accusations against Djan in the press, he remained director of sports till 1966. In fact, until the government legalized Ohene Djan’s administration in 1964, the COS had operated on the basis of a pronouncement made by Nkrumah in 1960 establishing it. Even so, the 1964 law that officially established the COS as a corporate body and mandated that a director and four persons be appointed by the president was never respected. The appointments of the additional department heads were never made, and Djan remained the de facto director of sports in Ghana until the overthrow of Nkrumah in 1966. The non-enforcement of the 1964 policy enabled Djan to wield so much power in directing sports in Ghana that he failed in the duty of positive sports development. By mid-1965, the COS was less active, competitions were fewer in every sport, and there was much dissatisfaction among players and officials. Football clubs were forced to come together under “club associations” in order to fight the malpractice in the administration of football.

The Tibo Committee recommendation and government action The Tibo Committee was established by the government to investigate operations of the COS after the overthrow of Kwame Nkrumah in 1966. In its summary of the period 1960–66, the Tibo Committee remarked that the Ohene Djan era was marked by corruption and intrigue. The sale of tickets at matches was a racket, and despite some successes, no real provision was made by Djan for the long-term future of sports in Ghana. Djan made no efforts to provide adequate playing fields and facilities in the country, and existing stadia and fields were left in a neglected state. The sleeping quarters at the Accra Sports Stadium were filthy and hardly habitable by 1966. These were shocking revelations because, at least in principle, COS was not only well structured but also received heavy government funding. The COS director’s salary of £1,950, which was paid directly by the office of the president, was almost the same as that of ministers of state, indicating the importance Nkrumah placed on the position. Thus, the directorship of the COS was as important to the plans of the CPP as the role of other cabinet ministers.31 The submission of memoranda and their approval took only three days, suggesting the importance and urgency that Nkrumah attached to the COS.32 Memoranda were delivered straight to the cabinet and not to the ministry or parliament for

Political action in sports in Ghana 69

discussion. This demonstrates that Djan was in favor with President Nkrumah, and his office was a top priority of the president.33 It appears from the committee’s investigations that the finances of the COS in the Nkrumah era were woefully mismanaged, as the Djan administration could not properly account for funds, and the director’s aim of feeding the various national teams with new talent from schools’ sports programs was not fully realized.34 Based on the audit recommendations and findings by A.O. Mills, principal auditor of the Audit Board, W.T. Marbell, Djan’s successor, was requested to issue accounting instructions, have stadium turnstiles repaired, and review the issuance of free gate passes. Ohene Djan was asked to refund an overpayment of £1,536, an unaccountable amount of £372 he had spent on travels, and more than £51 expended on his wife. The police were tasked to assist with further investigations and to help retrieve £1,000 paid by Djan to I.K. Darko. He was also to return to the COS £2,864 that he had spent on self-allocated COS vehicles and on a refrigerator and other items. For his part, Sam Boohene of the Ghana News Agency was to refund the face value of his dishonored checks or else be arrested by the police. J.T. Sackey, a ticket seller, was also to refund a shortfall of NC100.35 COS was reorganized with a board of eleven members, a chairman, a paid executive officer, and countrywide regional and district committees accountable to the board for translating national policies.36 Under Marbell’s tenure, amateur and professional sports were to be the responsibility of individual professional boards of control. To help the National Sports Board to organize sports, the Tibo Committee recommended that soccer, boxing, hockey, athletics, cycling, volleyball, basketball, cricket, swimming, gymnastics, and tennis be brought into the national program. With respect to taxes, the Tibo Committee recommended that because sports were promoted primarily for entertainment and for the improvement of health, they should not be subject to heavy taxation, especially as the introduction of the Entertainment Tax and the increase in gate fees had affected attendance at sporting events and consequent gate takings. Henceforth, football was to be levied a 15 percent tax; all other sports, 10 percent; and professional sports, 25 percent. Establishments were to assist with the provision of sports facilities, and make facilities for sports practice available to their employees. Employees were to endeavor to organize themselves into clubs around such facilities.37 A floodlit multipurpose stadium was to be built in every regional headquarters, among other improvements to stadia and playing fields; facilities were required to purchase COS’s own stadium chairs; COS was given a long-term loan of NC60,000 to establish a sports merchandise shop; and a sports clinic was to be reorganized to cater solely to registered sportsmen and women.38 The press was urged to emphasize good sportsmanship and high standards of conduct, and to help foster and sustain the public’s interest in sports. The committee called for a deeper commitment to coaches’ training to attract and assist beginners at the local, regional, and national levels. As for sporting clubs, they were to be organized more effectively and systematically and their monthly dues were to be properly audited once yearly.

70 K. Adum-Kyeremeh

A government White Paper described the Tibo Committee’s Report as “serious and a factual study” aimed purposely at eliminating the former abuses in the organization of sports and at promoting their sound and vigorous development.39 In addition to authorizing the attorney general to conduct a thorough investigation into the accounts of the COS and other financial malpractice on the part of any COS officer, the government proposed the setting up of a 15-member Sports Council of Ghana to study policy matters regarding sports at home and abroad. The council was to be headed by a part-time chairman, assisted by a government-appointed full-time director and deputy director, and would be responsible for the general management and organization of sports. The COS was now to be a subsidiary body through which the council’s decisions and objectives would be carried out, and it would have full-time officers to take care of technical matters. Additionally, COS was to be responsible for organizing and promoting sporting events, advising the sports council, and, from time to time, appointing experts to assist in its deliberations. The regulation establishing the Sports Council now included the creation of amateur sports committees at the national, regional, and district levels and the appointment of district and regional organizations. The National Liberation Council (NLC) declared its wish to see an increase in sports participation, and ultimately to see Ghana listed among world champions. Sports, the NLC believed, provided an unrivaled means of keeping a people fit; a sure means of sound cultural intercourse between countries to promote international understanding, cooperation, and unity; and an avenue to provide the youth with a useful outlet for their vibrant energy. It supported the Tibo Committee’s recommendation to hold an annual sports festival at which as many kinds of sports as possible could be played. In addition, the government recommended a review of the matter of free gate passes and a reintroduction of the “reserved seat” system to remedy irregularities. It promulgated Decree 330 in the belief that it would ensure sound financial transactions by the director of sports; the decree required prior approval by the Sports Council before any disbursement of funds. For financial transparency, the NLC Decree 330 established the Finance and Economic Board to advise on the administration of the Sports Council’s finances. Former COS director Ohene Djan was to account for an estimated £16,000 for which he had not provided supporting documentation. The government also recommended regular bonuses as incentives to boost standards of amateur sportsmen. Bonuses were to be reduced for workers of the COS, as they received handsome salaries, which the government thought did not bear any relationship to the official duties they discharged. Above all, the government directed police investigations into several cases of alleged wrongdoing, and the attorney general was mandated to prosecute all persons implicated and take legal action to recover monies allegedly misappropriated by persons named in the auditor general’s report. With these investigations and recommendations, hope was once again restored in Ghana’s program for the rapid development of sports in the post-1966 period.

Political action in sports in Ghana 71

Conclusion The problems that faced Ghana with respect to sports development in the 1960s were myriad. Despite years of organizing sports at the local club and national levels at home and abroad in the pre-1960 era, the GCASC, along with sports associations and sports clubs, failed to stop crowd violence, poor officiating, embezzlement of funds, and abysmal athletic performances. National sports teams continued to be plagued by administrative and organizational problems in the 1940s and 1950s, and very few coaches were available. Sports associations regularly were torn by internal disputes. Kwame Nkrumah, Ghana’s first president, and a sports enthusiast himself, deemed well-structured sports management to be the ultimate solution to the numerous problems in sports development in Ghana. For him, sports could foster national unity and significantly promote his Pan-African vision. His establishment of the Central Organization of Sports and appointment of Ohene Djan, then head of the Gold Coast Amateur Football Association as its director therefore raised Ghanaians’ hopes for rapid sports development. The enthusiasm of Djan, Nkrumah, and members of the CPP government generally, and Ghana’s increased participation in national, continental, and world competitions, seemed promising for Ghana. Unfortunately, the Djan administration was associated with widespread mismanagement of funds, nepotism, favoritism, and autocracy— developments that necessitated the NLC’s dismissal of Ohene Djan. Ghanaians were hopeful that the in-depth investigations, government recommendations, and the new sports administration under W.T. Marbell, Djan’s successor, would change sports management in Ghana for the better. The study of whether or not Ghana benefited from the investigations and reorganization of sports administration after the overthrow of Nkrumah as president awaits the endeavors of future researchers.

Notes 1 David Rowe, Global Media Sport: Flows, Forms and Futures (London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2013); Packianathan Chelladurai, Managing Organizations for Sport and Physical Activity: A Systems Perspective (London: Routledge, 2017). 2 Paul Darby, Africa, Football and FIFA: Politics, Colonialism and Resistance (New York: Routledge, 2002). 3 Ken Bediako, The Complete History of the Ghana Football League, 1958–2012 (Accra: self-published, 2012). 4 Peter Alegi, African Soccerscapes: How a Continent Changed the World’s Game (Athens: Ohio University Press, 2010). 5 Tibo Committee Report, 6, ADM/5/3/152, Public Records and Archives Administration Department, Accra [hereafter cited as PRAAD]. 6 Daily Graphic (December 11, 1961). 7 Daily Graphic (October 19, 1965): 8. 8 Ibid. 9 Daily Graphic (August 29, 1965): 7. 10 Daily Graphic (March 19, 1966): 11. 11 Bediako, Complete History, 18. 12 Ibid., 26. 13 Daily Graphic (September 6, 1960): 7.

72 K. Adum-Kyeremeh

14 White Paper on the Report of the Audit Investigation into the Accounts of the COS, W.P. No. 4/69, 2, ADM/5/3/152, PRAAD. 15 Samuel Obeng, ed., Selected Speeches of Kwame Nkrumah (Accra: Afram, 1979), 1:27. 16 Report of the Audit Investigations into the Accounts of the COS, July 1967, 3, PRAAD. 17 White Paper on the Report of the Audit. 18 Report of the Audit Investigations, 14. 19 M.M. Huq, The Economy of Ghana: The First 25 Years since Independence (Hong Kong: Macmillan, 1989), 195. 20 White Paper on the Report of the Audit. 21 Ibid. 22 Ibid. 23 Ibid. 24 Ibid. 25 Tibo Committee Report, 6. 26 Ibid., 7. 27 Ibid. 28 Ibid., 8. 29 White Paper on the Report of the Audit, 3. 30 Samuel Eson Otoo, “Football and Nation Building in Ghana under Kwame Nkrumah 1951–1966” (Unpublished MPhil. Diss., University of Ghana, 2014), 45. 31 Dp/J744.H2 G5, Parliamentary Debates, African Studies Library, University of Ghana, September 9, 1962, 233. 32 Otoo, “Football and Nation Building,” 45. 33 Ibid. 34 Tibo Committee Report, 8. 35 White Paper on the Report of the Audit. 36 Report of the Audit Investigations, 11. 37 Ibid., 16. 38 Ibid. 39 White Paper on the Report of the Audit.

5 “THE BEST OF THE BEST” The politicization of sports under Ghana’s Supreme Military Council Humphrey Asamoah Agyekum

Introduction On January 13, 1972, Ghanaian Colonel (later General) Ignatius Kutu Acheampong overthrew the civilian government of Dr. Kofi Busia.1 Although, initially, there was no shortage of backing for the military junta—demonstrations were organized across the nation as expressions of support—the regime sought to enhance its long-term legitimacy by instrumentalizing sports for its political purposes.2 This chapter deals with the establishment of the military sports club Super Stars ’74 (SS’74) in 1973 by General Acheampong’s junta, the National Redemption Council/Supreme Military Council (SMC I), as a vehicle to improve the domestic image of the Ghanaian military and enhance the legitimacy of the regime. How did the SMC I use sports to enhance its legitimacy? To what extent were sports able to improve the public image of the Ghana Armed Forces? Although the study of sports has attracted wide academic interest,3 it is a relatively new field.4 Bea Vidacs recommends social scientists take the study of sports seriously, as “exploring sporting practices can provide insights into social, cultural, political and historical processes which go beyond the sporting arena.”5 Sports, in other words, reflect social realities and therefore should not be relegated to the “‘toy department’ of human activities.”6 Sports offer scholars “a manageable arena of human interaction that is complex, temporally limited and yet historically situated,” a field that reveals “the same structure and ideological rationalizations of human relations as exist in larger society.”7 Moreover, sports can serve as a “social integrative instrument,” because participation in sports can “enhance emancipation of marginalized groups and challenge dominant meanings and stereotypes.”8 At the same time, sports can strengthen existing power structures in society and confirm or reconstruct stereotypes of marginalized groups.9 As a cultural form, sports can be deployed to “suit particular politico-ideological and socio-cultural objectives.”10

74 H. Asamoah Agyekum

On the African continent, sport has been instrumental during and after colonialism in various ways: politically, socially, and economically. During colonialism, sport was considered a vehicle for transmitting appropriate behavioral norms to colonial subjects, and a tool for creating well-behaved workers.11 Sports were also utilized to foster rebellion against the colonial project, thus showing future African leaders, such as Dr. Kwame Nkrumah, Ghana’s first president, the value of sports as a political and military instrument.12 Following Nkrumah’s blueprint of using sports for political purposes, it made sense to military leader Acheampong to also use sports, and the creation SS’74 in particular, as a political tool. The military and sports are closely related—physical fitness is demanded of soldiers and is considered the epitome of battle preparedness by militaries.13 Additionally, armed forces use sports to instil cohesion within the ranks. Most studies featuring the SMC I tend to focus on the dire economic conditions, corruption, and political mismanagement of the early postindependence period.14 There is no scholarship on the establishment and objectives of the military sports club SS’74. In this chapter, I reconstruct the history of SS’74, its close association with the SMC I, its patchy relationship with subsequent military regimes, and its eventual disbandment in 1982. The roots of the Ghana Armed Forces lie in the British colonial Royal West African Frontier Force (RWAFF).15 The British colonial rulers of the Gold Coast, now Ghana, deployed their military for internal security purposes, such as suppression of tax riots—thus pitting countryman against countryman.16 Interactions between civilians and colonial soldiers regularly escalated, resulting in violent confrontations, as colonial soldiers harassed women and physically abused men in garrison towns.17 This generated fear among colonial subjects and suspicion from the populace toward soldiers. Maj. Gen. A. (ret.) described the relationship between colonial soldiers and subjects as follows: “In those days, when people saw soldiers, military vehicles or convoys, they scattered. That was trouble. Soldiers were seen as brutes.”18 Conversely, colonial soldiers’ mistreatment of civilians resulted not only in a tense relationship between the groups, but also in a poor image of the personnel of the RWAFF. The idea of Ghanaian soldiers as bullies who were unfit for social interaction shaped citizenry’s perceptions of military operatives after independence in 1957. As a descendant of the RWAFF, the Ghana Armed Forces inherited the legacy of fear and suspicion toward soldiers held by civilians.19 However, the Ghanaian military also contributed to the already existing tensions and negative image of the institution. Postindependent Ghana has been the scene of five successful coups and numerous coup attempts.20 The first intervention was in 1966, followed by the coup in 1972 conducted by General Acheampong, whose SMC I is the focus of this chapter.21 Put differently, the regular fracas between colonial soldiers and civilians during the colonial era, but also the repeated coups in Ghana, resulted in a poor public image of the military as well as poor civil–military relations. Scholars observe that in the immediate aftermath of coups in Ghana, military regimes enjoy huge public support as civil society groups, such as trade unions and

Politicization of sports in Ghana 75

student organizations, orchestrate demonstrations as tokens of support.22 Ghanaian coup orchestrators framed their interventions as liberating or defending the country from illiberal practices or economic mismanagement by civilian politicians. The population thus initially considered the coup makers as messiahs who intervened to save them from dire economic conditions.23 Evidence from Ghana, however, indicates that the honeymoon period for military regimes is usually short-lived.24 To maintain the initial euphoria, the new government must improve the economic and living conditions of the population, as well as ensuring that its soldiers refrain from abusing the civilian population and thereby undermining the regime’s legitimacy.25 The SMC I was aware of the importance of delivering quick results but also hoped to improve the poor image of the Ghanaian military.26 The negative image of the Ghanaian military, the regime’s power base, reflected badly on the junta and threatened to erode the support, and also eventually the legitimacy, of the regime.27 One of the initiatives of the SMC I to deal with these issues was to set up a “model sports club.”28

Sports and politics in Ghana Sports and politics are intertwined as political interests shape sporting practices and sport organizations.29 Richard Giulianotti and Gary Armstrong note that it makes perfect sense to explore the possibilities that sports offer in the quest to capture the hearts and minds of citizens,30 as they generate positive coverage that ultimately sustains popularity. The SMC I mixed sports with politics through the establishment of SS’74.31

Recruitment The success of the political agenda for the establishment of SS’74 depended on tangible achievements in the sports arena. To engineer and ensure success of the sports club, the military junta directed the Ghana Armed Forces Sports Control Board to dispatch specially appointed recruitment officers to all ten regions of the country, to sporting events such as tournaments and matches of youth football competitions, to select talented soccer players, athletes, and boxers for SS’74. Further, the recruitment officers utilized their network of coaches and trainers to locate the best sporting talents.32 After the talented youths had been identified, they were invited to the military’s El Wak Stadium “to justify their selection” before they were drafted into SS’74.33 The final selection was done under the watchful eyes of renowned trainers, such as athletics coach Adjin Tettey, boxing trainer Attuquaye Clottey, and legendary football manager Charles Kumi (C.K.) Gyamfi, three-time Africa Cup of Nations winner.34 During its existence, SS’74 held three recruitment rounds. The first, in 1973, when the military club was initially established, comprised 39 sportsmen and sportswomen—25 football players, ten athletes, and four boxers. The second and third rounds of recruitment, which occurred in 1974 and 1976, brought the total

76 H. Asamoah Agyekum

number of athletes to 72: 40 footballers, 20 athletes, and 12 boxers, including four women.35 From the outset, the military regime considered the football component the most prominent of the project. Football is Africa’s favorite active pastime, thus the junta anticipated that soccer would be the channel through which it could win the hearts and minds of Ghanaians.36 The football focus had implications for the player recruitment process. SS’74 selected predominantly young athletes, whom it could still shape through military education.37 Recruitment officers had a preference for talents playing in the youth training programs of renowned Ghanaian clubs, such as the Accra Hearts of Oak or Kumasi Asante Kotoko.38 After being identified as potential players for SS’74, the players were invited to El Wak Stadium to play a series of friendly games while the coaches finalized their selection. At the end of the selection process, the selected athletes, football players, and boxers were medically examined by military doctors to determine their fitness for military service. Moreover, regular soldiers who played for civilian professional clubs during that period were decreed by the junta to join the selection of SS’74.39

Training The selected athletes were housed together in dormitories at the Ghana Armed Forces’ Gondar Barracks, the base of the Armoured Reconnaissance Regiment (Recce Regiment). The members of SS’74 underwent an adjusted short and intensive three-month military training at Recce Regiment, instead of the usual six-month training at the Recruit Training Centre.40 The main task of the athletes of SS’74 was to perform sports; therefore, their military training consisted only of the basics of soldiering—shooting, conducting drills, and performing guard duties. Through the Ghana Armed Forces Sports Control Board, the junta regulated the lives of the athletes by applying the tactics of a “total institution”41—that is, housing, feeding, and organizing the daily activities of the athletes. Their day started early every morning with an intensive three-hour training session. Later in the day, the sportsmen and sportswomen were subjected to a similar training regime. The Sports Control Board arranged transportation and logistics around the training sessions, matches, and tournaments.42 The organization provided the athletes with the best trainers and coaches available; for example, the first football trainer of SS’74, C.K. Gyamfi, was then a two-time Africa Cup of Nations winner (1963 and 1965).43 National football coaches, such as German Karl Weigang, Brazilian Oswaldo Carlos Sampaio, and Herbert Addo,44 all managed SS’74’s soccer team. The aim of providing the athletes with the best trainers was to engineer success that would reflect positively not only on the Ghanaian military, but also on the military junta.

Welfare of athletes The athletes’ welfare was paramount in engineering sporting success that would reflect positively on perceptions of the military. The Sports Control Board assigned the management of SS’74 members to the most promising young officers in the

Politicization of sports in Ghana 77

Ghanaian military. Flt. Lt. Jerry John Rawlings, for instance, who would later inspire and lead two successful coups,45 managed SS’74’s boxing team.46 Moreover, to enable them to perform at the highest level, the Sports Control Board ensured that the athletes were provided with basic necessities, which were scarce in this period.47 While the economy of the country was in dire straits, with a grave lack of basic commodities, “we were getting provisions like milk and sugar, from Acheampong [the junta]. We were well-catered for, we received weekly allocation of 17 items each.”48 By distributing provisions, the junta aimed not only to nourish the athletes, but also to win their loyalty. In return for taking care of the sportsmen and sportswomen, the regime expected them to perform well and produce the positive results the junta sought through the establishment of SS’74. The athletes also received state-of-the-art sporting equipment and materials, such as training kits, boots, spikes, and jerseys, from the regime.49 Within the barracks, the sportsmen and sportswomen had special cooks to take care of their nutrition. “Our food was different from that of our non-athlete colleagues; we had extra proteins.”50 Additionally, the athletes received extra financial compensation. “As soldiers we were taking our pay, but we were given extra rewards for our sporting activities. We received bonuses for drawing and winning.”51 Moreover, the sportsmen and sportswomen were, per decree by the junta, excused from performing “arduous military duties.”52 All of these perquisites were geared toward engineering athletic successes to produce positive public relations for the military and the military government.

Disciplining athletes Although Acheampong was “the father” of SS’74,53 the military sports club was directed by Lt. Col. Simpey-Asante, director of the Sports Control Board and special advisor to the junta. Under his watchful eyes, the performance of the athletes was closely monitored. Successful achievements were quickly reported to the regime, which claimed them as victories in the battle to win the hearts and minds of the citizenry. Failure, however, was not tolerated. Football players, like the other athletes, were subjected to a strict regimen of twice-a-day practices, a high-protein diet, and strict bedtimes. As a result of this regimented schedule and the availability of talented players, the soccer team could compete with established Ghanaian professional football clubs such as Ashanti Kotoko and the Accra Hearts of Oak. The Ghanaian premier league of the time encompassed 18 teams. Because football teams played every weekend (home and away) and competed in the football association’s cup tournament, SS’74 enjoyed maximum exposure, thus placing it in the purview of the barracks and the general public. The spotlight meant that players were under constant pressure to perform, in order to fulfill the regime’s expectations to produce a positive portrayal of the military institution and the junta. “Acheampong expected the impossible from us. He wanted us to win all the time, but we are human beings; we could not always excel.”54

78 H. Asamoah Agyekum

SS’74’s performance in Ghanaian football can be rated as mediocre. The soccer team never won the championship, and in the years it participated in the Ghanaian premier league (i.e., 1974–80), it registered midtable positions. Due to the heavy investments in manpower (e.g., managers and coaches) and financial resources, the SMC I was disappointed in these poor performances. An interlocutor recounts what happened when his team lost against Gbewa United, a lowly regarded club from northern Ghana: We were leading before the break 2–1. At the end of the match, we lost 4–2. Upon return, we were referred to the Physical Training Wing for a treat. It was a complete disaster. We suffered that day, I will never forget it. The PTIs [physical training instructors] subjected us to intense training sessions, including running and jogging while carrying logs. We finished at the shooting range. The PTIs basically compressed four days of exercises into a four-hour punishing session.55 As this example demonstrates, sport can sometimes serve as an instrument of punishment. Despite the extra attention and incentives, the footballers could not always live up to the expectations of the junta. When they underperformed, from the regime’s perspective, the athletes were drilled, while carrying logs and weapons, until some fainted. The regime reasoned that the athletes had no reason to underperform as all their logistical, sporting, welfare, and financial needs had been met. Athletes’ poor performances, the regime believed, could only be explained as unwillingness to achieve, and that was intolerable because it ran counter to the objectives of the project.

Transfer of military virtues Sport is the ideal site for manipulating men, a forum for controlling social forces.56 The regime viewed the “model club” SS’74 as the ideal vehicle for manipulating and influencing the actions and thoughts of the population.57 SS’74 was to illuminate the positives of the Ghanaian military by portraying excellent military virtues, such as discipline, dedication, and loyalty to the nation. As a model club, the junta reasoned, SS’74 would be not only the envy of other clubs due to its achievements, but also a sporting organization that other Ghanaian clubs would aspire to emulate. Moreover, the military model club was supposed to close the gap between civilians and the military by showing its civilian counterparts that soldiers were not aliens, but humans who earn achievements through hard work and discipline. Sports offer a useful environment for transmitting ideas, as they can serve as a podium for making a wished-for attitude or behavior visible and tangible to those whose attitudes are to be influenced and changed. In 1970s Ghanaian military circles, soldiers opined that their civilian counterparts were undisciplined and unpatriotic—at least not as disciplined and patriotic as they were.

Politicization of sports in Ghana 79

When athletes and football players were called up for national assignments and they are to report on, for example, Tuesday 10 o’clock, some will report hours later, the following morning, or will not report at all. By setting up the model club, Acheampong wanted to change this undisciplined attitude. He camped us together so that whenever we were needed for a tournament or any national assignment, we were ready and available.58 The regime envisioned SS’74 in the role of socializing other groups of soldiers and athletes, by portraying the “right” attitude, especially by responding on time to calls to national assignments, but also by exhibiting patriotic engagement.59 SS’74 as a model club was designated to model discipline for civilian athletes, as well as to illuminate martial virtues such as patriotism. Due to their talent, the select athletes of SS’74 could compete at national level and, in some cases (for example, in amateur boxing), on the international stage. Further, the contingent of civilian athletes selected to represent Ghana internationally was regularly supplemented with SS’74 members. “Our athletes, such as long-distance runners Arhin Michael and Jonathan Sowah, were outstanding. Our ladies Juliana Dovlo (100 and 200 meters) and Cecilia Tabuah (800 meters) were in their day top notch competitors.”60 The national boxing team, the Black Bombers, was also regularly strengthened with members of SS’74. “Heavyweight fighter Mahama Mohamed and middleweight Roy Cobba featured prominently and gallantly in national and international tournaments.”61 The members of SS’74 who participated in these competitions and assignments were not only to perform in their respective sports, but also to portray positive martial virtues such as discipline and patriotic zeal, through their commitment to the success of their team and nation. In doing so, the regime hoped that SS’74 members would alter the attitudes of their civilian competitors and teammates. Soldiers and civilians working together on the same team but also competing against each other brought both groups together, providing a forum for interaction and thereby potentially bridging the gap between the military and the citizenry at large. Mixing teams with civilian and soldier athletes offered the military athletes real sporting opportunities. This mixing made it possible for some members of SS’74, especially boxers and athletes, to participate in international tournaments such as the Commonwealth Games of 1974 and the All-Africa Games of 1978.62 Additionally, some of my interlocutors expressed fond memories of their team being supplemented with civilian players for a national assignment to The Gambia. During that tour, SS’74 represented Ghana as the Black Meteors (the Ghana national youth team), playing against the Gambian national team and the winner of the Gambian national championship.63 “We departed on 18 October and played on 20 October 1974, against the national team. We beat them by 2–1. It was great.”64 That was not the only contribution of SS’74 squad members to the Ghana national team. Talented players such as goalkeeper Kwaku Ampeh, as well as Addo Moffat and Henry Thompson, regularly featured on the national team or were called up to fill voids left by injured players.65 In 1978, Ghana won the Africa Cup of Nations for the third time,66 with SS’74 player Kuntu Blankson in the ranks.67

80 H. Asamoah Agyekum

All in all, success by the members of SS’74 was presented as being a result of their relentless work ethic, but also their extreme discipline and dedication to the club and their sport. When success was achieved on the international stage, the regime linked the achievement to dedication to the nation and patriotism. This way, SS’74 was made a vehicle for illuminating the positive aspects of the Ghanaian military in the hope they would reflect positively not only on the Ghana Armed Forces but also on the junta. Politically, the regime instrumentalized the successes of, for example, the Black Meteors to demonstrate that soldiers and civilians can collaborate and succeed together. The mixed teams generated positive headlines. The junta hoped that civilians would recognize soldierly virtues as positive traits and emulate them.

Demise of SS’74 Because of the justification it claimed for wresting power from the civilian government, the SMC I was aware that its economic performance had to surpass that of Busia’s government for it to be considered legitimate. Since the military regime accused the dethroned administration of economic mismanagement, the junta’s performance in this area was going to determine how the military administration was rated.68 Contrary to the Busia administration’s act of “political suicide” in devaluing the cedi (the Ghanaian currency) by 44 percent against the dollar upon the insistence of the International Monetary Fund (IMF), while increasing the cost of imported goods, the SMC I revalued the cedi in defiance of the IMF.69 “It was the first time the currency of a developing country had been revalued upwards.”70 Additionally, the junta acquired controlling shares in foreign-owned companies.71 The measures were met with enthusiasm as they defused the economic pressure on the populace.72 However, around 1975, questions arose around the SMC I’s legitimacy due to skyrocketing inflation and shortages of basic necessities, such as sugar, flour, and rice, leading to complaints that “ordinary people are hungry.”73 The shortages and consequent hunger led the population to question what the government was doing about their hardships, and whether the SMC I was the right administration to tackle the economic crisis.74 The general impression was that the military regime was “incapable of containing the crisis in the economy,” leading already critical voices to become more vocal.75 Sports can be instrumentalized to manipulate a population and divert attention from pressing everyday matters. However, in the long run, what counts is not entertainment but the trust of the people, for their leaders to provide the conditions for them to meet basic needs of food, shelter, and clothing. The junta aimed to control and pacify the people through promotion of SS’74. However, when people’s basic needs were not met, SS’74 as an instrument for manipulating the population and improving the image of the military was bound to fail. Under SMC I, the shortages worsened, and increasingly the junta was accused of corruption.76 Due to economic problems and allegations of corruption, from 1975 onward the SMC I’s legitimacy was increasingly under scrutiny. Parallel to the societal discontent with the

Politicization of sports in Ghana 81

junta, resistance toward the SS’74 project begun to surface, both within and outside the Ghanaian military, and from some quarters of SS’74 itself. My interlocutors note that in fact fellow soldiers only partially embraced SS’74 as their club. Soldiers only seemed to appreciate the football element when SS’74 was winning, and generally they were hostile toward SS’74, as demonstrated through abuse and mockery of the athletes. Eventually, internal factors and developments in the political realm converged to trigger the demise of SS’74.

Internal military factors The military intended to mold athletic recruits into the soldiers it wanted—those who I interviewed had been recruited when they were young, between 15 and 21 years old. The athletes’ youthfulness made it possible for the Ghana Armed Forces to accommodate them cheaply in dormitories with double-decker bunk beds. However, with time, the living conditions generated tensions within the group as well as toward the regime and the military institution. Youth in the African context is a position of social being and becoming, a transitory position “which is internally and externally shaped and constructed, as well as part of a larger societal and generational process.”77 As my interlocutors grew older, the athletes became increasingly reluctant to live in dormitories as they yearned to be socially active, to live on their own or start families: “Living in a dormitory made us feel that we were not growing. We were stuck.”78 And the military was not forthcoming in awarding them individual living quarters, which made it difficult for them to leave behind the socially constructed notion of youth. Lack of promotion was another factor that generated resentment from the athletes toward the sports project. In the military’s hierarchical system, authority is based on expertise or specialized knowledge and rank.79 Although the members of SS’74 were sporting specialists, their specialized skills and knowledge were only of interest to the junta, and not to the Ghanaian military as a whole. After three years in military service, my interlocutors realized that their juniors in the military hierarchy had been promoted over them. “We were not getting ranks.”80 According to an ex-sergeant major, “To earn promotion, the soldier must be based at a unit. As you grow older in the system, you get more responsibility. That means you have to attend courses to prepare you for handling these responsibilities. The SS’74 people were only performing sports and not taking courses.”81 Moreover, soldiers based at a unit can be evaluated and recommended for promotion by their superiors. Although the members of SS’74 were recruited and stationed at the Recce Regiment, they were not, in practice, part of that unit, as they were not performing any soldierly tasks. The athletes were visible as representatives of SS’74 but invisible as soldiers to the military hierarchy, thus making it difficult for their superiors to assess their military performance and recommend them for promotion.82 Not progressing socially as well as militarily, my interlocutors were losing authority to their juniors, as most of them were still privates. This situation generated resentment and undercut motivation toward the sports project. To earn their promotions and gain status in the military hierarchy, my interlocutors started taking military courses to

82 H. Asamoah Agyekum

become accounting clerks, physical training instructors, mechanics, and cooks. They applied to be stationed at units so they could earn promotions, perform more military tasks (such as night guard duty), and be selected for peacekeeping missions, such as when the Ghana Armed Forces became a contributor to the United Nations Interim Force in Lebanon (UNIFIL) in the mid-1970s.83 In the words of one SS’74 athlete: “Some of our seniors were saying to us: ‘[Peacekeeping] operations are here and you are doing sports?!’ We were being advised to quit for a chance to go on a mission.”84 Due to the economic crisis, they jumped at the opportunity to participate in the lucrative missions to earn extra income. Moreover, in order to be eligible, a soldier had to be based at a unit, so all the athletes demanded to be transferred to the regiments. The new arrangement left little time for sports, which negatively affected the performances and achievements of SS’74. These poor results in turn further demotivated the athletes. In short, promotion meant more responsibility at the units for the athletes, but life at the units demanded a lot of energy from them. The sports project suffered because the members’ attention shifted from their core responsibility of sports to soldier-centered activities. Moreover, over the years the hostility of other soldiers toward SS’74 increased, as exemplified by military commanders’ demand that the athletes increasingly participate in military activities such as bush exercises. “Our commanders and peers called us lazy. After punishing training sessions, it was impossible for us to go on guard duties at night because we were tired.”85 In addition: “There was envy over our sport talent. Some also suspected us of being Acheampong’s informants because we were close to him.”86 The lack of support from the barracks eventually undercut the motivation of the athletes and undermined the sports project. Another internal factor contributing to the gradual disintegration of SS’74 was the nontransparent selection process for races, fights, and matches. At the beginning of the project, the coaches and trainers selected athletes based on training performances or tactics, which meant the best athletes were selected and accepted by the managers. However, when the regime’s focus shifted to economic and political issues, SS’74 was affected. Unlike at the beginning of SS’74 when the management was conducted by promising officers, “now they appointed just anyone to manage us, whether the officer was interested in sports or not.”87 My informants note that most officers were indifferent to SS’74, and were vulnerable to manipulation by self-serving players and trainers. The athletes “lobbied officers to be selected rather than working hard to earn their place; getting to the end selections were based on favoritism and at the expense of excellent people.”88 Unclear selection criteria and haphazard management led to a lack of direction for the club and undermined the athletes’ commitment to continue in SS’74. Over time, the financial resources and incentives that had been available at the beginning of the sports project also dried up. Without the regime’s financial backing, promises to send athletes abroad for further education, such as football trainers’ courses or athletics courses, never materialized, leading to friction between SS’74 members and the regime.89 The lack of financial resources prompted some SS’74 soccer players to engage in corrupt practices. “Some of us were taking bribes

Politicization of sports in Ghana 83

to lose matches. When an exceptional player all of a sudden starts playing poorly, we know he has taken something.”90 Corruption led to SS’74 losing matches they should have won, which generated frustration and agitation between teammates and undermined the club’s team spirit. An underlying but not explicit aim of the project was to bring together Ghanaians from all ten regions of Ghana through the selection of athletes from across the country. Before their recruitment, some of the athletes played for youth teams of renowned Ghanaian clubs and still supported Accra Hearts of Oak or Kumasi Asante Kotoko. Supporters of these established clubs also represent the Ga and Asante ethnic groups, respectively, spicing their healthy rivalries and animosity with tribal overtones. By 1975, the regime seemed to have lost interest in SS’74, and the commitment of the football players also dwindled with many players favoring their supported club over their military employer. In the words of one athlete: “When we played against the big clubs, our players who supported them underperformed so that their clubs can win.”91 This situation led to accusations of tribalism among the players and their leadership, thus adding more tension to an already explosive situation. To defuse the accusations of tribalism from escalating, the managers of SS’74 resorted to stringent measures. “When we played Kotoko, no Asante-man would be fielded and against Hearts no Ga-man would play.”92 This in turn deepened divisions within the club, because “our togetherness and brotherhood was broken.”93

Political and military events Personal and professional factors converged to undermine the athletes’ commitment to the sports project. There were also political factors that contributed to the demise of the SS’74. Increasingly aware of dwindling support for the regime, General Acheampong proposed a union government (Unigov) to replace political parties with a body of societal groups, such as trade unions, security services, and the judiciary, to discuss and make legislation.94 Instead of consolidating the regime’s position, this proposal triggered bitter societal struggles led by civilian professional groups. The upheaval was topped off by shocking revelations of corruption and self-enrichment by military personnel and civil servants, which further weakened the position of the junta.95 On July 5, 1978, the head of the Ghana Armed Forces, Lieutenant General Akuffo, ended the rule of Acheampong in a bloodless palace coup.96 Although this coup did not lead immediately to the demise of SS’74, it was the beginning of the end. The putsches of June 4, 1979 and December 31, 1981 hammered the final nails into the coffin of SS’74. After the disappearance of General Acheampong from the political stage, SS’74 members noticed drastic changes. The financial resources, logistical support, and other incentives were completely withdrawn by subsequent regimes. The club became disorganized as new regimes had no place for the sports project, were thus unwilling to invest in it, and withdrew its management. “When Acheampong left, we were left to bungle”;97 finding themselves in a desperate situation, the athletes were further demotivated to continue with SS’74.

84 H. Asamoah Agyekum

On June 4, 1979, a mutiny of junior officers and noncommissioned officers led to the establishment of the Armed Forces Revolutionary Council.98 During this revolt, the leaders of the SMC I were executed in a brutal “house-cleaning exercise.”99 Among those executed was the chairman of SS’74, Air Vice Marshal Yaw Boakye, under whose professional leadership the military club was run.100 Together with Lt. Col. Simpey Asante, Air Vice Marshal Boakye had direct access to the junta leader, thus making it possible to gain access to resources for SS’74. My interlocutors note that the chairman’s death was a devastating blow to the military club, as his loss left the club in disarray. In addition, the Ghanaian military withdrew the athletes’ privileges of not undertaking soldierly tasks. The team was withdrawn from the Ghanaian premier league in 1980, and the military club was officially disbanded in 1982.101 An interlocutor asserts that “the revolution killed SS’74.”102 The revolution referred to here is the putsch of December 31, 1981, which catapulted the Provisional National Defence Council (PNDC), led by Flight Lieutenant Rawlings, into office. The PNDC claimed to be a revolutionary movement rather than a military junta. Although SS’74 had survived the haphazard policies of two preceding military governments, this third coup sealed its fate. During the revolution, the Ghanaian military was restructured, as the professional and disciplinary standards had decreased drastically as a result of involvement in national politics.103 Under the leadership of Gen. Arnold Quainoo, tasked with reorganizing the Ghana Armed Forces, SS’74 was closed down. The retired general asserts: “We are soldiers. Our task is to soldier, not to play sports. The club was also a source of tribal tensions and jealousies within the barracks.” In other words, the sports project did not feature in the new government’s military agenda and thus had to make way for other pressing matters, such as restoring professionalism and discipline into the rank and file of the armed forces.104 Moreover, the new leaders argued that soldiering and sports are not compatible, so there was no place for SS’74 in the barracks.

Conclusion In this chapter, I set out to examine how the Supreme Military Council used sports to improve the public image of the Ghanaian military. By mixing military sports teams and athletes that represent the country at international tournaments and football competitions with civilians, and vice versa, the military regime constructed a public image of civil–military collaboration. The successes of the mixed teams portrayed the military in a positive light as the junta claimed that civilians and soldiers could coexist and work together. Such collaboration also transmitted martial values into the civilian part of society and acquainted civilians with these positive qualities. The aims of the sports project SS’74 were threefold: to improve the image of the military through sports; to bridge the gap between soldiers and civilians that had resulted both from colonialism and as a result of repeated coups; and, most importantly, to enhance the legitimacy of the junta. Considering the resources invested in SS’74, it cannot be rated as a success due to political, personal, and

Politicization of sports in Ghana 85

professional factors that converged to eventually derail the project. Since the SMC I came to office against a backdrop of dire economic conditions, its legitimacy was always going to depend on its economic performance. The deployment of sports as a political tool worked for the first three years of General Acheampong’s rule, but in the long run the project did not achieve all its objectives.

Notes 1 Eboe Hutchful, “A Tale of Two Regimes: Imperialism, the Military and Class in Ghana,” Review of African Political Economy 6, no. 14 (1979): 36–55; Björn Hettne, “Soldiers and Politics: The Case of Ghana,” Journal of Peace Research 17, no. 2 (1980): 173–93. 2 Hettne, “Soldiers and Politics,” 181. 3 Zbigniew Krawczyk, “Sport as Symbol,” International Review for the Sociology of Sport 31, no. 4 (1996): 430–6. 4 Bea Vidacs, “Through the Prism of Sports: Why Should Africanists Study Sports?,” Africa Spectrum 41, no. 3 (2006): 331–49. 5 Ibid., 331. 6 Harry Edwards, “Sport within the Veil: The Triumphs, Tragedies, and Challenges of Afro-American Involvement,” Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science 445 (1979): 116–27. 7 David Light Shields and Brenda Light Bredemeier, “Sport, Militarism, and Peace,” Peace and Conflict: Journal of Peace Psychology 2, no. 4 (1996): 369–83. 8 Agnes Elling, Paul De Knop, and Annelies Knoppers, “Gay/Lesbian Sport Clubs and Events: Places of Homo-Social Bonding and Cultural Resistance?,” International Review for the Sociology of Sport 38, no. 4 (2003): 441–56. 9 Ibid., 445. 10 Richard Giulianotti and Gary Armstrong, “Sport, the Military and Peacemaking: History and Possibilities,” Third World Quarterly 32, no. 3 (2011): 379–94. 11 Laure Fair, “‘Kickin’ It: Leisure, Politics and Football in Colonial Zanzibar, 1900s–1950s,” Africa 67, no. 2 (1997): 224–51. 12 Paul Darby, “‘Let Us Rally around the Flag’: Football, Nation-Building, and PanAfricanism in Kwame Nkrumah’s Ghana,” Journal of African History 54, no. 2 (2013): 221–46 (also see chapter 4 in this volume). 13 David French, “Review: Sport and the Military: The British Armed Forces 1880–1960, by Tony Mason and Eliza Riedi, 2010,” Twentieth Century British History 22, no. 4 (2011): 585–95; Elling, De Knop, and Knoppers, “Gay/Lesbian Sport Clubs and Events,” 441–56. 14 Simon Baynham, “Civilian Rule and the Coup d’Etat: The Case of Busia’s Ghana,” RUSI Journal 123, no. 3 (1978): 28–36; Mike Oquaye, Politics in Ghana, 1972–1979 (Accra: Tornado Publications, 1980), 61. 15 William Gutteridge, “Military Elites in Ghana and Nigeria,” African Forum 2, no. 1 (1966): 31–41. 16 Claude Welch, Civilian Control of the Military: Theory and Cases from Developing Countries (Albany: State University of New York, 1976). 17 Baynham, “Civilian Rule and the Coup d’Etat,” 29. 18 Interview with Maj. Gen. A. (ret.), Accra, Ghana, May 1, 2014. 19 Interview with Lt. Col. D., Accra, Ghana, September 9, 2014. 20 Patrick McGowan, “African Military Coup d’Etats, 1956–2001: Frequency, Trends and Distribution,” Journal of Modern African Studies 41, no. 3 (2003): 339–70. 21 Simon Baynham, “Divide et Impera: Civilian Control of the Military in Ghana’s Second and Third Republics,” Journal of Modern African Studies 23, no. 4 (1985): 623–42; Hutchful, “Tale of Two Regimes,” 45. 22 Oquaye, Politics in Ghana, 1972–1979.

86 H. Asamoah Agyekum

23 Baynham, “Civilian Rule and the Coup d’Etat,” 28. 24 Mike Oquaye, Politics in Ghana, 1982–1992: Rawlings, Revolution and Populist Democracy (Accra: Tornado Publications, 2004). 25 Ibid. 26 Interview with ex-member of SS’74, Maj. A.-A. (ret.), Madina, Ghana, December 12, 2014. 27 Interview with a retired intelligence officer closely associated with the NRC/SMC I, Accra, Ghana, January 2014. 28 Elling, De Knop, and Knoppers, “Gay/Lesbian Sport Clubs and Events,” 441–56. 29 Fair, “‘Kickin’ It,” 225. 30 Ibid., 225. 31 SS’74 had various nicknames: “Soldier Boys” (due to association with the military), “Abongo Boys” (because the military was considered uncouth and rough), “Acheampong Boys” (due to association with General Acheampong), and “Supreme Stars” (the club was established by the Supreme Military Council). In 1973 SS’74 was called “Defense Stars,” and the following year it became SS’74. 32 Interview with ex-member of SS’74, ex-W.O. Class I T., Accra, Ghana, December 8, 2014. 33 Interview with ex-athlete of SS’74, ex-W.O. Class I M., Accra, Ghana, December 15, 2014. 34 Elling, De Knop, and Knoppers, “Gay/ Lesbian Sport Clubs and Events.” 35 Interview with ex-footballer of SS’74, ex-W.O. Class I A.M., Madina, Ghana, December 16, 2014. 36 Vidacs, “Through the Prism of Sports,” 331–49. 37 Interview with ex-member of SS’74, ex-Sgt. T.L., Accra, Ghana, December 14, 2014. 38 Interview with ex-member of SS’74, Coach O.-A., Prampram, Ghana, October 27, 2014. 39 Interview with ex-member of SS’74, ex-Sgt. D.K., Accra, Ghana, December 15, 2014. 40 Interview with ex-member of SS’74, ex-W.O. Class I A.-M., Accra, Ghana, December 11, 2014. 41 Erving Goffman, Asylums: Essay on the Social Situation of Mental Patients and Other Inmates (New York: Anchor Books, 1961). 42 Interview with ex-member of SS’74, ex-W.O. Class I A.-M., Accra, Ghana, December 11, 2014. 43 Ibid. 44 “Chronology of Ghana Black Stars Coaches,” accessed January 14, 2017, http://www. ghanaweb.com/GhanaHomePage/blackstars/coaches.php. 45 Oquaye, Politics in Ghana, 1982–1992: Rawlings, Revolution and Populist. 46 Interview with ex-member of SS’74, ex-W.O. Class I A., Accra, Ghana, December 16, 2014. 47 Ibid. 48 Hutchful, “Tale of Two Regimes”; interview with ex-member of SS’74, ex-W.O. Class I N., Amasaman, Ghana, December 9, 2014. 49 Interview with ex-member of SS’74, ex-W.O. Class I N., Amasaman, Ghana, December 9, 2014. 50 Interview with ex-athlete of SS’74, ex-W.O. Class I M., Accra, Ghana, December 15, 2014. 51 Ibid. 52 Tony Mason and Eliza Reidi, Sport and the Military: The British Armed Forces 1880–1960 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010). 53 Interview with ex-W.O. Class I R.A., Accra, Ghana, December 20, 2014. 54 Interview with ex-member of SS’74, ex-W.O. Class II N., Accra, Ghana, December 10, 2014. 55 Interview with ex-W.O. Class I R.A., Accra, Ghana, December 20, 2014. 56 Dominique Bodin and Luc Robène, “Sport and Civilisation: Violence Mastered?; from Civilising Functions to Pacifying Functions,” International Journal of the History of Sport 31, no. 16 (2014): 2079–99.

Politicization of sports in Ghana 87

57 Interview with ex-member of SS’74, Maj. A.A (ret.), Madina, Ghana, December 12, 2014. 58 Interview with ex-member of SS’74, ex-W.O. Class II N., Accra, Ghana, December 10, 2014. 59 Shields and Bredemeier, “Sport, Militarism and Peace.” 60 From document on the history of SS’74 provided by the SS’74 Association, 2012. Author’s collection. 61 Ibid. 62 Ibid. 63 Interview with ex-footballer, ex-W.O. Class I P., Accra, Ghana, December 20, 2014. 64 Ibid. 65 From document on the history of SS’74, SS’74 Association, 2012. 66 Elling, De Knop, and Knoppers, “Gay/Lesbian Sport Clubs and Events.” 67 Interview with ex-member of SS’74, ex-W.O. Class I N., Accra, Ghana, December 10, 2014. 68 Interview with ex-member of SS’74, ex-W.O. Class I N., Amasaman, Ghana, December 9, 2014. 69 Ibid.; Hutchful, “Tale of Two Regimes”; Mason and Reidi, “Sport and the Military.” 70 Mason and Reidi, “Sport and the Military,” 37. 71 Ibid. 72 Ibid. 73 Interview with ex-W.O. Class I R.A., Accra, Ghana, December 20, 2014; Dennis Austin, “The Ghana Armed Forces and Ghanaian Society,” Third World Quarterly 7, no. 1 (1985): 90–101. 74 Interview with ex-member of SS’74, Maj. A.-A. (ret.), Madina, Ghana, December 12, 2014. 75 Interview with ex-W.O. Class I R.A., Accra, Ghana, December 20, 2014. 76 Ibid. 77 Henrik Vigh, Navigating Terrains of War: Youth and Soldiering in Guinea-Bissau (Oxford: Berghahn Books, 2006); Catrine Christiansen, Mats Utas, and Henrik Vigh, eds., Navigating Youth, Generating Adulthood: Social Becoming in an African Context (Uppsala: Nordic Africa Institute, 2006), 9. 78 Interview with ex-member of SS’74, ex-W.O. Class I A., Accra, Ghana, December 16, 2014. 79 Max Weber, Essays in Sociology, ed. and with an introduction by H.H. Gerth and C. Wright Mills (New York: Oxford University Press, 1946), 235. 80 Interview with ex-member of SS’74, ex-W.O. Class I A., Accra, Ghana, December 13, 2014. 81 Interview with ex-Force Sgt.-Maj. S.W.O.O.D., Accra, Ghana, December 20, 2014. 82 Interview with ex-member of SS’74, ex-Sgt. D.K., Accra, Ghana, December 16, 2014. 83 United Nations factsheet, UNIFIL, accessed January 20, 2017, https://unifil.unm issions.org 84 Interview with ex-member of SS’74, ex-W.O. Class I N., Accra, Ghana, December 10, 2014. 85 Hutchful, “Tale of Two Regimes.” 86 Interview with ex-member of SS’74, ex-W.O. Class I P., Accra, Ghana, December 20, 2014. 87 Ibid. 88 Ibid. 89 Interview with ex-member of SS’74, ex-W.O. Class I A., Accra, Ghana, December 13, 2014. 90 Hettne, “Soldiers and Politics,” 173–93. 91 Ibid. 92 Interview with ex-footballer of SS’74, ex-W.O. Class I A.M., Madina, Ghana, December 16, 2014. 93 Interview with ex-member of SS’74, ex-Sgt. D.K., Accra, Ghana, December 15, 2014.

88 H. Asamoah Agyekum

94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104

Austin, “Ghana Armed Forces,” 90–101. Mason and Reidi, “Sport and the Military,” 585–95. Baynham, “Divide et Impera,” 28–36. Interview with ex-member of SS’74, ex-W.O. Class I N. A., Accra, Ghana, December 21, 2014. Oquaye, Politics in Ghana, 1982–1992, 100. Ibid. Interview with ex-members of SS’74, ex-W.O. Class I M. and S., Accra, Ghana, December 23, 2014. Ibid. Ibid. Hutchful, “Tale of Two Regimes.” Humphrey Asamoah Agyekum, “From Buga-Buga Soldiers to Officers and Gentlemen: How Notions of Professionalism and Civility Transformed the Ghana Armed Forces” (PhD thesis, University of Copenhagen, 2016).

6 “WE HAVE MATERIAL SECOND TO NONE” Colored sportsmen and masculine competition in the South African press, 1936–1960 Cody S. Perkins

Introduction Sporting cultures provided contexts in which South African men judged their peers in terms of physicality, competitive worthiness, fair play, and commitment to task and team. Sports also provided important spaces for men to develop close fraternal bonds. Teammates trained together, played together, won and lost together, and often were friends outside of their teams. Sports like boxing, rugby, track and field, and weight lifting exemplified the masculine qualities of strength, physical endurance, speed, and discipline. In South Africa, and indeed in many other countries, rules that divided competition along racial lines had the effect of racializing masculine ideals as well. According to the hegemonic racial ideologies of South Africa, the British Empire, and the United States, White men were better suited to govern, lead the economy, and represent their countries and communities in sporting arenas than were representatives of other races. Men subjugated further down the racial hierarchy nonetheless saw themselves as worthy competitors and sought to test their own masculine mettle through sports. The sporting culture of South African men proved to be a strong counterpoint to prominent racial and gender stereotypes about Colored men. The conventional definition of “Colored” in the South African context is a community of “mixedrace” people. Racist attitudes held that moral impropriety attributed to the origins of the Colored community in miscegenation led to physical and racial degeneracy among the “mixed-race” Colored South Africans, producing a community of absentee fathers, drunks, cowards, and criminals. Mohamed Adhikari and other scholars have documented the historical stereotypes well, correctly asserting that the most common identity shared by Colored South Africans is a shared heritage with the Asian and African slave communities.1

90 C.S. Perkins

Colored men’s responses to the gendered and sexualized stereotypes of them as a “mixed race” reveal the power of stereotypes to marginalize members of the young South African nation-state based on more than race alone. White political elites tapped stereotypes about sexualities and gender roles to create a public discourse pitting European propriety against non-European depravity, civilized against uncivilized, and normality and respectability against deviance. Beginning with the South African War (1899–1902), also called the Second Anglo–Boer War, political and cultural leaders of the South African nation-state embarked on a process of gendered stereotyping of Colored South Africans in public media and formally sanctioned reports. Their campaign of cultural disparagement became increasingly racialized through the 1930s. As counterpoints to these distinctly gendered politicized stereotypes, Colored men responded in explicit presentations of themselves as devoted family men, loyal citizen-soldiers, powerful athletes, and respectable members of their communities. White authors like Sarah Gertrude Millin, and other contemporary sources like the 1937 report of the Cape Coloured Commission, described Colored men as cowardly and physically inferior weaklings.2 Millin, for example, used one of her fictional characters to proclaim, “too often they were small and vicious, and craven and degenerate.”3 For many Colored men, sports seemed to be an obvious realm in which they could prove their masculinity. They believed success through vigorous training regimens, victory in competitions, and even the fostering of respectable fan bases for local and national teams would earn them access to the fraternity of masculine respectability guarded by South Africa’s White elites. Colored sportsmen recognized the immense importance White South Africans placed on sporting culture as a means of inculcating masculinity, citizenship, and respectability among their boys and young men. Colored men shared those values and hoped to convince Whites to accept their commonalities. This chapter is, in part, an attempt to situate Colored sporting cultures into broader historiographies of race, gender, and sports by demonstrating that conceptions of masculinity expressed through competition transcended racial boundaries and appealed to Colored men in ways similar to White men. Colored men accepted sporting culture as productive of a communal spirit as well. They believed that “every member of any team soon learns that the team is the main thing, and that all his skill is of no use unless used as the food of his team. Team games also bring out the spirit of comradeship.”4 Although historians have compared the sporting cultures of Whites and Africans, the ways in which Colored sporting cultures factored into those interactions have been largely ignored.5 This chapter amends that omission by illustrating how Colored athletes and fans perceived themselves as part of South African and global sporting cultures.

The White world of sports The historiography of White sport, especially within the domain of the British Empire, emphasizes the common core values Britons, Australians, Pakeha (White New Zealanders), and White South Africans believed inherent to competition.

Colored sportsmen in the South African press 91

Christopher Merrett describes the commonality as White men assuming that “their self-perceived moral ascendancy, heightened integrity and superior biological characteristics endowed them with a fitness to rule others. All these qualifications were summarised by prowess at sport.”6 White men living in different racial contexts fit sporting discourse to their own purposes. As Martin Crotty notes, Australians of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries believed the aim of sports “was to ensure that the elites of Australia [i.e., White Australians] were worthy of their position, and would be men who would guarantee against decline, both physical and moral, in the colonies … Amidst fears that colonial climate has a tendency to produce unmanly boys, sport was advocated as a safeguard against effeminacy.”7 Among the smaller Pakeha population of New Zealand, contact sports forged a sense of community and belonging among the isolated men. Jock Phillips goes so far as to suggest that the contact inherent in rugby may have contributed to the sport’s popularity beginning in the late nineteenth century: most human beings need the affirmation of touching other people, that colonial men often could not obtain that affection from women and turned for support and intense fellowship to other men, and that rugby provided one place in which the tensions of their situation could be relieved.8 Historians of sport throughout the British Empire have rightly highlighted the values and relationships that are shaped and reshaped through competition.9 Those sporting values translated into the societies in which the competitors lived and reflected the societies’ values regarding race and gender in the realms of competition. Sports were not merely about recreation, but rather created a sphere in which racial and gender hierarchies could be both reinforced and challenged. White South African men, like their counterparts throughout the British Empire, relished participation in popular sporting events such as rugby, cricket, and boxing. Sports and physical education were increasingly seen as important developmental tools in White schools to raise responsible citizens who embraced toughness and fair play. Rugby became an entrenched element of Afrikaner masculinity during the interwar period.10 Robert Morrell points to an idealized vision of rugby as racially exclusive to Whites, especially among the White settler communities of Natal and the Northern provinces. Though soccer had initially been popular among the English-speaking settlers, it “became emblematic of threatening, socially integrative forces within society” as more and more Africans picked up the game.11 White settlers, regardless of background, rallied around rugby in particular as a racially exclusive marker of White sporting masculinity and respectability. By the 1940s, though, Afrikaner nationalists deployed rugby culture as representative of the Afrikaner masculine ethos. Albert Grundlingh argues that Afrikaner elites, and especially those associated with Stellenbosch University, developed a subculture “in which enthusiasm for rugby as an Afrikaner male activity was equated with robust patriotism to the exclusion of other contending, and perhaps

92 C.S. Perkins

more threatening, world-views.”12 Conscious and critical of their exclusion from sport, Colored men called out the Afrikaners’ exclusionary dominance as nothing more than poor sportsmanship. The sports editor for the Daily Sun, writing about the Springboks’ insistence on playing a segregated New Zealand team, reminded White South Africans that “it must always be borne in mind that any team that leaves these shores is more than only a group of players—they are emissaries of goodwill and friendliness from one people to another.”13 The Afrikaner nationalists’ claim to rugby as an Afrikaner sport represented a new division among the sport’s players and fans, but racial segregation was hardly new to the pitch. White South Africans’ insistence on racial segregation in sports dates to the earliest years of organized play in White-dominated southern Africa. As institutions like schools, the military, and civic organizations were strictly segregated, the close relation of sports to those institutions resulted in segregated sporting organizations. White settler schools in the Cape and in Natal encouraged or required their male pupils to participate in sports clubs. Men in military service organized games and tournaments to pass the time and demonstrate their manly bravado among their fellow soldiers. Neighborhood teams competed against one another in urban centers like Cape Town. By the last decade of the nineteenth century, South Africans who were excluded from the “White,” official clubs organized separate sporting and recreational associations, such as the Western Province Coloured Rugby Union in 1886, the Colored Young Men’s Christian Association in 1895, and the City and Suburban Rugby Union in 1898.14 In the context of Cape Town and the wider Cape region, members of these sporting associations often self-identified as “Colored,” fitting themselves into an intermediate position within the hegemonic racial hierarchy.

Threatening the “Great White Hopes” Sporting competitions presented arenas for possible challenges to the racial order, primarily in the United States and the British Empire. In cases where no color bar existed, White men faced potential humiliation at the hands of superior athletes from supposedly inferior races. Competitions took on broader social meanings when they were promoted as battles between the races. Throughout the first half of the twentieth century, a string of White athletes competed under monikers like the “Great White Hope,” expressing their perceived status as defenders of the White race.15 The African American heavyweight Jack Johnson’s thrashing of Jim Jeffries in 1910 is certainly the most famous example. Almost three decades after the bout, the Cape Standard’s resident “physical culturist,” Andrew M. Marcus, remembered Johnson as “the greatest defensive-fighter boxer of all time.” Marcus went on to declare, “No other fighter ever equaled Johnson when it comes to taunting men with the tongue while the battle is waging furiously in the ring.”16 Johnson’s bravado in the face of racial denigration was a large part of his popularity among Black people around the world. Ignoring the obvious privilege and economic superiority connected to their position within this racial framing, White men portrayed Black athletes as threats to a vulnerable White community.

Colored sportsmen in the South African press 93

These “threats” often achieved hero status within the Colored communities of South Africa and questioned any White South African’s claim to championship as long as Whites refused to compete without the restriction of the color bar. By claiming athletes like Joe Louis and Jesse Owens as “Colored,” Colored South Africans projected themselves into a global community resistant to White supremacy. Coloreds saw similarities in their plight and that of African Americans in particular due to shared histories of slavery and their status as relatively small racial minorities in their respective countries.17 Colored men who hoped to get their shot, too, could share in Louis’s victories against White opponents. On June 25, 1937, Colored sports fans exploded with joy at the news that Joe Louis had claimed the world heavyweight title from James J. Braddock. Writing of the son of sharecroppers, the Sun’s headline declared: “Coloured King of the Fistic World.”18 Louis was the first African American champion since Johnson in 1910, and Colored boxing fans embraced both as heroes. One letter to the editor of the Cape Standard told his community, We must remember that the ‘Brown Bomber’ is a Coloured man, and that he has again placed us on the ‘boxing map’ since the mighty Jack Johnson gave up the heavyweight crown … I think every Native and Coloured man should raise his hat to him and hold high hopes for his future.19 Louis’s popularity among Colored South Africans largely stemmed from his bouts against White opponents, especially the German Max Schmeling. Press coverage of Louis’s fights against Braddock, Schmeling, Billy Conn, and others framed the contests as battles between racial torchbearers. The highly racialized context permitted even apolitical Colored sports fans to recognize Louis and other contemporary Black athletes as contradictions to the White supremacy that permeated South African sporting cultures. Just as Colored men identified with Louis, so too did White men cheer on successful White boxers like Schmeling and Braddock. In the months leading up to Louis’s first fight with Schmeling in 1936, the Afrikaans newspaper Die Burger questioned whether Louis was a great fighter or if boxing as a whole was of lesser quality.20 The Sun, in turn, mocked the competing paper for questioning Louis because he was “idolized by the great American public.” The Sun playfully applied the title of “white hope” to both Schmeling and Braddock, though the editors clearly believed Louis would prevail.21 Boxing offers the most obvious examples of sporting challenges to racial hierarchies on an international stage. Like rugby, participants and fans of the sport imbued boxing with widely accepted social values. In the colonial context, boxing “resonated with the gendered logic of the white man’s burden,” encouraging White men to prove both their civility and their rugged dominance of their subjected neighbors.22 Unlike most other sports, boxing was integrated: professional White boxers commonly faced Black opponents, most often personified by African Americans or West Indians. South African boxing associations kept their members racially segregated, but any champion

94 C.S. Perkins

could claim internationally recognized titles. This fact, along with boxing’s strict gender segregation and supposedly “authentic” nature, made boxing unique among masculine sports. Patrick McDevitt argues: Boxing allowed civilized English and Australian men to compete with American fighters or fighters of color regardless of nationality and demonstrate not only their capacity for utilizing violence to achieve their goals, but also display their superior technical skills by virtue of their systematic training and fighting methods. These differences, in conjunction with issues of imperial and racial rivalry, made boxing an important arena of the contestation for the meaning of manhood in the late Victorian and Edwardian eras.23 Most likely due to their minority status, White South African boxers were not as keen to compete against boxers of color as were their English and Australian peers. Boxing remained a segregated sport in South Africa and even for South African boxers competing abroad, while media coverage of the exploits of boxers like Johnson, Henry Armstrong, and Louis was strictly censored. That censorship did not hamper African American athletes’ popularity among Colored men, though. For example, one man anticipated Louis’s rematch with Billy Conn by groaning, “As usual, our Film Board of Censors will ban the film of the fight, but they cannot stop me from listening to the American broadcast in the early hours of the morning. If I cannot see the contest, I can at least hear the thuds.”24 This man was most likely not alone in sitting by his radio to listen to faraway fights, as evidenced by the consistent coverage of African American athletes in the Colored press. White South Africans’ insistence on segregated sporting competitions highlighted a stark contradiction in White supremacist ideologies: while White boys and men were meant to learn how to be better citizens—and indeed better men—through competition, most believed that Black boys and men did not benefit in the same ways. In 1939, the mayor of Cape Town, W.C. Foster, encouraged a group of Colored boxers by telling them the sport would “assist materially by teaching co-ordination of brain and muscle, in rehabilitating the Coloureds.”25 Foster’s perspective reflected common assumptions among Whites that Coloreds lacked inherent mental and physical capacities due to origins in miscegenation, but the curse of “mixed blood” could be lessened through rehabilitation. The mayor would have been able to draw on an array of scholarly studies in scientific racism and popular literature to support his stance. Though White men claimed superiority over men of other races by nearly every measure, they were not willing to put that claim to the test in sporting competitions, because defeat was too great a risk to the hegemonic racial hierarchy at the heart of South African society. Colored men seized on this weakness. When government officials prevented Australian Aboriginal boxer Elley Bennett from entering South Africa to fight Vic Toweel, editors of the Sun pounced. Toweel, a White bantamweight, was South Africa’s first world champion and claimed he was willing to fight Bennett, but the Sun wondered “what would happen if a couple of Negro boxers begin knocking at

Colored sportsmen in the South African press 95

the door. What will happen if Toweel does not want to defend his crown outside of Johannesburg?”26 Whites’ insistence on segregated sports had another important implication: South Africans’ recognition of successful athletes as heroes and role models became racially segregated as well. Indeed, Colored athletes believed that sports served a greater cause by forging common bonds with athletes of other racial identities and exposing the weaknesses in arguments championing White supremacy. One writer challenged his peers to stop attending White rugby matches at Newlands in favor of Black matches on the Cape Flats. After attending a friendly match in Langa, the writer wondered: Does the average Non-European sports fan know just how high is the standard of play produced by his own class of people on the playing fields? Has he seen the Bantu player in action on the sports field? Maybe the average man and woman do not know about these things … But it does make one think and wonder when you see the crowded trains of Colored male sporting fans.27 The allure of matches at Newlands was likely due to the high quality of play rather than the fact that the players were White, though this sportswriter contends that quality play existed outside the bastion of White clubs. Colored men wanted recognition that they were up to the masculine challenge of competition and, if given the opportunity, could best all challengers, including Whites. The sports editor for the Sun contested White supremacy in sport by arguing that “we have never yet been called upon to prove our ability against the Europeans, etc., or to test their superiority. Consequently, the latter falls away.”28 By putting their bodies on the line, Colored men sought greater acceptance into the hegemonic political culture of South Africa by virtue of their physical equality. In the years after the 1936 Summer Olympic Games in Berlin, Colored journalists and sports fans increasingly questioned the rationale of excluding African, Colored, and Indian athletes from South Africa’s national teams. Many Colored athletes, they argued, were capable of competing on an international level and had earned the right to represent their country. If Colored athletes were found wanting, it was only because the government and national sporting boards denied them funding, facilities, and the freedom to compete against all challengers. One correspondent noted that Colored sports fields were often sloped, uneven, or bare dirt, and lamented, “All these disadvantages keep us back from our real standard of play locally.”29 Several Colored athletes found international success, though they were forced to compete under foreign flags or with private financial backing. Perhaps owing to their intermediate racial and cultural status, Colored athletes embraced a range of popular sports that did not always translate across the racial boundaries between Black and White. Newspapers aimed at Colored audiences included reports about “upper class,” typically White-dominated sports like cricket, tennis, field hockey, and lawn bowling, as well as the working-class favorites of rugby, soccer, and boxing. As Peter Alegi notes, many Black South Africans rejected sports like tennis for their perceived effeminacy while favoring sports like

96 C.S. Perkins

soccer as “the public display of manly grace.”30 Though not uniform in their opinions of the masculine appeal and respectability of all sports, Colored athletes and fans displayed interest in a diversity of sports perhaps as an attempt to capitalize on the popular cultures of the majority Black Africans and the politically dominant Whites.

The “Black Flashes” and the “Brown Bomber” The racially charged athletic competitions of the late 1930s captivated Colored sports fans. They were thrilled not only by the athletes’ feats of strength, speed, and endurance but also by their shattering of the myth of White invincibility. Colored men were not blind to the narrative of White supremacy as a myth, but their lack of opportunities to compete directly against White South Africans prevented any opportunity to prove their own equality or superiority. Coloreds began to draw comparisons between South Africa’s brand of White supremacy and the rise of Nazism in Hitler’s Germany during the 1930s. For instance, in the debate about whether to support the Allies in World War II, one proponent accused his detractors of “indirectly supporting … Dr. Malan and his Nationalist Policy,” a thinly veiled association of the National Party with the Nazis.31 Two international mega-events served to highlight Coloreds’ cries of foul. First, the Olympic Games held in Berlin during August 1936 were heralded as the greatest showcase of athletic talent up to that time, and Hitler had boasted of his Aryan athletes’ dominance long before the games began. And second, a little more than a month before the Olympics, Germany’s Max Schmeling smashed the rising star Joe Louis against the ropes, prompting a scheduled rematch. Colored fans waited in earnest to see how African American athletes would respond. The sports pages of the Sun on August 7, 1936 offered a look into Colored pride and anxieties over the international performances of African American athletes. “With the eyes of the whole world focused upon the Olympic Games …” one story began, “it is gratifying to note that Coloured athletes, in the persons of the American Negroes, are making history.” The writer relayed the feats of Jesse Owens, Ralph Metcalfe , and Cornelius Johnson while carefully noting the futile efforts put up by South Africa’s White competitors. “Grimbeek, the best sprinter for the Union, was drawn next to Owens in the second round of the 100 metres and was left standing by the ‘Black Flash’ at 20 metres,” the Sun raved.32 Colored sports fans’ favoring of the African American athletes was obvious, while they offered little more than ridicule for their White countrymen. The American “Black Flashes,” claimed as Colored themselves by Colored South Africans, served as a bit of retaliation for Colored (as well as African and Indian) exclusion from the South African Olympic delegation. The same writer for the Sun was not so confident in his reporting of Louis’s defeat at the bruising hands of Schmeling. The writer wondered, “What was wrong with Joe Louis on the night he met Schmeling?” Suggesting that it was unbelievable to boxing fans, and especially to the Colored and African fans who had placed their hopes in Louis’s corner, the writer hinted at a conspiracy. He noted that witnesses said that Louis “was not himself when he stepped into the

Colored sportsmen in the South African press 97

ring, and the subsequent shellacking he received at the hands of the German definitely proved to the thousands of Louis fans that something was wrong with the Negro hope.”33 The contrast of Colored joy brought on by the success of the “Black Flashes” compared to the confusion and anxiety expressed at the loss of the “Brown Bomber” demonstrates the great interest with which Colored fans followed African American sportsmen. While the Olympic Games would not be held again until 1948 due to World War II, Colored supporters rekindled their love for Louis over the next two years. By 1938, talk of looming war in Europe was discussed in South African newspapers, and Schmeling became emblematic in the minds of Colored people of the White supremacist regime in Germany. Hitler’s minister of propaganda, Joseph Goebbels, had cast the fight as a battle of opposite races.34 The rematch offered Colored fans satisfaction in knowing that Louis could retain his title and reclaim his honor. They feared, however, that another loss would cement White supremacist determinations that Colored athletes did not belong in the same arenas with White champions. The fight also demonstrated the international appeal of boxing as a cultural microcosm: Colored South Africans placed their hopes for racial salvation in an African American poised to fight a White German supported by the Nazis. Local race relations and international politics were set to collide in the ring. On June 24, 1938, the front page of the Sun declared, “Joe Louis Batters Schmelling [sic] into Submission.” The fight, which had been contested two nights earlier in New York, ended in a decisive first-round knockout of Schmeling. Other headlines from the Sun professed, “The German Fails to Land a Punch” and “Heil Herr Joe!”35 The Colored press and sports fans celebrated Louis’s title defense as a victory for Colored men everywhere, though their anxiety at Louis’s potential defeat was not lost on correspondents. A writer for the Cape Standard noted that “had the result been otherwise, there is every possibility that there would have been outward signs of national regret.”36 As much as Colored South Africans saw Louis’s victory as a sporting success, they also recognized the importance of Louis’s win as an embarrassment for White supremacy and Nazism. After casting the fight as a racial battle, the Colored press proclaimed, “Schmelling [sic] and Herr Goebbels Silenced.”37 One Colored-Indian man remembers how his family in Cape Town followed the success of Louis: The part we liked best was how “the mad man Hitler” had announced to the world that no black man could ever beat Max Schmelling [sic], because of the superiority of the Aryan race. Daddy could barely contain himself as he told us how the Brown Bomber smashed “the Great Aryan” into defeat in just 124 seconds of the first round on the night of June 22, 1938. “People were still finding their seats and already the fight was over, and the world danced,” he would laugh uproariously.38 Footage of Louis’s fights was banned for Colored, African, and Indian audiences in South Africa, but the Colored press and radio reports continued their celebrations of Louis’s feats throughout the 1940s. Louis’s service in the US Army during

98 C.S. Perkins

World War II solidified his iconic status as a masculine representative of the struggles against racism and fascism. The Sun remembered Louis’s career proclaiming, “Joe is as proud of his title as the Coloured race is of Joe,” and referred to the “Brown Bomber” as the “Finest Ideal of Coloured Manhood.”39 African American athletes became the standard by which Colored sports fans and promoters measured their own athletes’ potential. Colored boxers who demonstrated any competency in the ring drew comparisons to Louis. One boxer, “Gorilla” Thompson, was promoted for a time under the moniker “Shade of Joe Louis.”40 Another Colored boxer, Sonny Thomas, encouraged Colored boys to draw inspiration from the American champion. Through his work with the St. Alban’s Amateur Boxing Club, Thomas trained “Budding ‘Joe Louis’s.’”41 Colored track and field promoters held up the successes of the “Black Flashes” as attainable goals, especially given the right support. After witnessing an athletic competition held at Green Point Track in Cape Town, one spectator noted, “We have material second to none. We have many a potential Jesse Owens, Tolan or Johnson. I would like to see a Coloured South African team competing at the Olympic Games.”42 By adopting African American athletes as their own, Colored South Africans claimed an idealized form of athletic masculinity that challenged White scrutiny on the international stage. Although Colored men were denied recognition of their athletic masculinity by the White supremacist regime in South Africa, they viewed African American heroes perhaps as legitimate torchbearers for Colored masculinity abroad.

Colored Springboks and Maori All Blacks While African American athletes figured prominently in Colored men’s sporting imaginations, South Africans had very few interactions with American athletes when it came to team sports. In terms of rugby, for instance, South Africa’s biggest rivals were Great Britain and, more pertinently in Colored arguments about interracial sports, New Zealand. The South African Springboks and New Zealand’s All Blacks exchanged touring teams every few years beginning in 1921 and were usually evenly matched. While Colored men largely cheered for South Africa’s national team, they also took notice of the racially inclusive All Blacks and the sporting prowess of New Zealand’s Maori athletes. If New Zealand could consistently field one of the best rugby teams in the world, feature Maori players, and compete with South Africa, Britain, and Australia, what sporting argument could White South Africans make to not give Colored rugby players a try? Colored sports editors made the case early on that White South Africans who supported the color bar in rugby lacked credibility and sportsmanship. During the preparations for the Springboks’ 1937 tour of New Zealand, the South African Rugby Board (SARB) sparked controversy by suggesting that the Springboks would not play a New Zealand team that included Maori. The sports editor for the Sun cried foul and suggested that SARB harbored ill will toward the Maori following the Springboks’ embarrassing defeat against an all-Maori team in 1921. “In

Colored sportsmen in the South African press 99

the first place, the Springboks refused to meet the Coloured team, but in the end capitulated,” the editor remembered, “and took their defeat in such an unsporting spirit that the whole tour was marred by their untoward conduct.”43 Although SARB did not officially tell its New Zealand counterpart that the Maori were not welcome opponents, many fans believed the New Zealand Rugby Football Union wished to avoid any unpleasantness and conceded. Seizing upon the successes of Maori rugby, Colored men hoped to mirror their example and at least compete, through an all-Colored team, against the All Blacks during the planned tour of South Africa in 1940. This tour was not to be, as World War II subsumed sports in importance, but the Colored attraction to the Maori resumed once a 1948 tour was announced. A front-page story in the Sun quoted a New Zealand sportswriter who argued that if the All Black team did not include Maori, it could not be considered as truly representative.44 This logic meshed with Coloreds’ arguments for inclusion on the Springboks. Pointing to the Maoris’ and Coloreds’ recent service in the war, the editors of the Cape Standard argued for the inclusion of Maori and Coloreds on the national teams in another way. “[The] view that if they were good enough to fight alongside white South Africans, they must be good enough to play rugby with, is one that has been expressed time and again by prominent Non-Europeans,” the editors concluded, though they remained convinced that the color bar would be upheld.45 The editors’ cynicism proved well founded, as the All Blacks’ Maori players stayed home. After the tour, Colored sportsmen and political elites lambasted White, and especially Afrikaner, rugby fans. They noted that at one of the test matches played at Ellis Park in Johannesburg, the White South African fans booed the All Blacks and threw bottles on the field. In a contemptuous explanation of why Whites reacted to the All Blacks in this way, the editors of the Torch quipped, “They are Christians. They are Calvinists. They are democrats. They hate all the right people: Kaffirs, Hottentots, Coolies, Communists, Jews, Atheists and anyone who makes them look silly in the eyes of Non-Whites.”46 The potential of the New Zealand team to defeat the White Springboks created a no-win situation for White South Africans according to the Torch’s Colored editors. Although the Springboks proved victorious, they had played an All Blacks team that was missing some of its key players in the persons of Maori. Had the Maori been allowed to compete, the outcome might have gone the other way. One of the major goals outlined by promoters and sports editors within the Colored press was the inclusion of Colored rugby players on the national Springbok team. The obstacles to that goal were formidable. Colored challenges to the White social convention of rugby as a White sport met with stiff resistance. However, Colored rugby supporters built on a long history of organized competition in the Cape to make their case for inclusion. In the final years of the nineteenth century, two separate Colored rugby unions were organized along predominantly religious lines. The Western Province Colored Rugby Football Union (WPCRFU) and the City and Suburban Rugby Union, the former composed of mostly Muslim players and the latter of both Christians and non-Muslims, dominated Colored newspapers’

100 C.S. Perkins

sports pages through the 1960s. The religious division reflected the diversity of Colored identities, but also points to stark divisions between people who claimed those identities. Where religion, language, and even physical appearance divided communities, popular pastimes and gender ideals could unite people. David Black and John Nauright explain that for Colored rugby players and fans, the sport emerged as a manly and character-forming game among Cape Town’s elite Coloured schools, developing from the influence of British missionaries combined with the hard realities of everyday life in the cramped areas of District Six and the Bo-Kaap district. The notion of respectability was a strong influence on the urban African elite; however, in Cape Town this was also infused with concepts of respectable behaviour and self-discipline that stemmed from Muslim culture and the teachings of the Koran. 47 Some team names, like Progress, the Universals, and the Arabians, conveyed images of Muscular Christianity or Muscular Islam that many of the players hoped would nurture their competitive spirit. Other teams hoped to strike a more intimidating posture with names like Hotspurs and Pirates. The representative Western Province team of the WPCRFU was particularly feared because of its players’ reputations for rough play and intimidating tactics before, during, and after matches. Although Colored and White players and fans perceived the sport’s social value and masculine worth in similar veins, the White SARB refused to allow interracial teams or competitions regardless of the quality of Colored players. Colored rugby organizations pressed their case in the late 1930s, perhaps encouraged by the international successes of the African American and Maori athletes. One fan asked, “Will we ever speak of a Coloured Springbok Rugby Team in Future?” He noted that the quality of Colored rugby had improved over the years, giving a subservient nod to the notion that “the European has taught and the Coloured has learnt … We are proud of our Springboks, but when will our European rugby enthusiasts be proud of us as far as the game of rugby is concerned?”48 This fan also pointed to the popularity of White rugby among Colored fans, naming several famous White players such as Danie Craven and Philip Nel, while clearly hoping that Colored players would someday be listed among the pantheon of Springbok greats. Other fans were not so conciliatory toward SARB’s insistence on racially segregated competition. The sports editor of the Cape Standard, writing in 1938, lambasted critics of interracial sports after a minister of parliament responded to news of Colored rugby and soccer touring teams by suggesting that competition with Whites would “undermine the social bar which exists in South Africa.” The editor commented on the MP’s remarks, “White South Africa has not much to be proud of when national sport must also have a colour bar.”49 Colored challenges to White championship status became more common and aggressive in the following decades. In the winter of 1939, a representative national toured South Africa playing local clubs and provincial representative teams. The Colored press noted that the quality of play was excellent and suggested that many of the players could hold their own

Colored sportsmen in the South African press 101

with the best South Africa could offer. After a close victory by the Colored team over a team from Griqua, one sports editor remarked on the players’ physiques and described them all as the “fine, robust type of athlete, fit representatives of South Africa’s national game.”50 The Colored national team went undefeated on its tour, besting even the formidable Western Province team—though many of the province’s best players had been chosen for the national team. As perhaps the most obvious claim to their worthiness to play on the Springboks, the Colored players wore the Springbok green and gold colors. The Colored men who organized and played for the touring team fostered no inferiority complex.

“The fair name of sport” and the Olympic Games The 1948 All Blacks tour coincided with two other important developments in South African sporting history. First, the election of the National Party on its apartheid platform put Colored, African, and Indian citizens on alert that more segregationist legislation was imminent; they could expect further barriers to interracial competition as well as obstacles to access to facilities and funding. Second, the first Olympic Games since Berlin was staged in London, and Colored athletes hoped to represent the Union on the same standing as White athletes. The South African Olympic Games Association allowed only White athletes to compete under the Union flag, but Coloreds’ hopes were not completely dashed. In October 1946, the Sun featured a front-page story of a potential Colored Olympian. Ron Eland, a young teacher and weight lifter from Port Elizabeth, had consistently broken the British Empire’s lightweight record in the three Olympic lifts during practices. He had just failed to officially break the record in front of a crowd at a health and strength demonstration, but the Sun reported that his supporters were still confident that, if given the chance, Eland would bring home a gold medal. Eland apparently tipped the scales at only 140 pounds, but could lift an aggregate of 685 pounds in the press, snatch, and jerk. Under the tutelage of another former South African record holder, Milo Pillay, Eland was expected to dominate the South African Olympic trials and was a lock for the Union’s London delegation.51 However, in early 1948, the Sun reported that Eland, denied a place on the South African team, had received sponsorship to travel to England for training and to compete in the London Olympics under the empire’s flag. Eland’s status as an Olympian, even if he was competing for Great Britain, represented the highest international sporting achievement yet attained by a Colored South African. Many Colored men supported Eland’s decision and saw the potential for social change to follow his anticipated success. If Eland were to medal in the Games, “it would represent a forceful argument for a more lenient and tolerant attitude on the part of our European sport authorities towards Coloured sportsmen aspiring to international honours.”52 The Sun, the Golden City Post, and other media celebrated Eland and followed his story closely. Eland’s performances, which “he did with ease and grace and without unduly exerting himself,” drew comparisons with the

102 C.S. Perkins

African American lightweight boxer Henry Armstrong.53 They also praised Eland primarily as a credit to his country, claiming any success he had in London added “laurels and lustre to the fair name of sport in South Africa.”54 Without the powerful Colored lifter, South Africa’s Olympic delegation was inadequate. His supporters declared, “It should be clear to everybody that the team finally selected to represent South Africa will most probably be the best as far as European sport is concerned, but not the best as far as South African sport is concerned.”55 Eland embodied the argument of equal abilities and national pride many Colored men had deployed to argue for social and political acceptance as men and against the stigma of stereotypes based on race. Eland’s Olympic venture ended in unfortunate circumstances. On the day of competition, Eland was hospitalized with appendicitis. However, he was able to complete one of the three required lifts before he withdrew from competition. The South African Sporting News also noted with pride that Eland, already recognized as a national hero by Colored men at home, had finished ahead of his White South African compatriot in the one event he was able to finish.56 The histories of the “Black Flashes” and Ron Eland supported claims by Colored athletes that they were up to the Olympic challenge. In the run-up to the 1956 Games, the Golden City Post reported that Black boxers would potentially be allowed to participate if they qualified.57 For his part, Eland told the Post that he believed if South Africa would not allow Black athletes to compete under the Union flag, then those athletes should pursue possibilities of competing for other countries. “There should be no bar to prevent any athlete from representing his country at sport,” Eland argued, though he expressed concerns about the cost and bureaucratic logistics of Colored athletes heading overseas.58 The Drum, the Post’s sister publication, agreed with Eland and claimed the law and Olympic rules were on their side.59 By barring everyone except White athletes, South Africa ran the risk of expulsion from the International Olympic Committee. Furthermore, the press contended, the South African team would be stronger with the inclusion of all athletes. While most South African sporting organizations did not include formalized color bars in their constitutions, the social color bar was strictly enforced. Only White athletes were selected for the 1956 South African delegation, and all national teams continued to accept only Whites. As a result of White South Africans’ refusal to integrate national sporting organizations, the International Olympic Committee excluded all South African athletes from Olympic competition beginning with the 1964 Games in Tokyo.

Conclusion By incorporating the international examples of African Americans and Maori, Coloreds’ imaginings of championships and masculine respectability proved they were not confined by the localized cultivation of racial segregation in sports. As African Americans and Maori proved that they were consistently of championship caliber, Colored South Africans also claimed, again and again, that they could

Colored sportsmen in the South African press 103

compete with anyone. They tried to pique the imaginings of White South Africans along the way. Imagine a Colored boxer of the status of Joe Louis heaping praise upon South Africa’s boxing culture. Imagine an integrated South African Olympic team sweeping events at Rome in 1960, at Tokyo in 1964, or perhaps at an Olympics staged in the Union itself. Imagine a truly representative Springboks team pounding away against the formidable front of the All Blacks, both Maori and Pakeha. In Coloreds’ imaginations, the possibilities were endless. For many Colored men, competition in sports complemented a constellation of masculine roles as part of their citizenship in the Union. Colored men held the franchise against several attempts to remove them from the voter rolls—a feat not accomplished until the National Party succeeded in 1956. Colored men celebrated their military service in the Cape Corps through two world wars. And Colored men presented themselves as devoted to their families, their churches or mosques, their jobs, and the education of their children. Sports served as a palpable manifestation of Colored masculinity that illustrated both their physical and intellectual contributions, whether real or potential, to South Africa. Colored men’s interest in White culture may seem contradictory in the sense that Colored men sometimes mocked Whites’ failures and often ridiculed White South Africans as poor sportsmen. However, Colored support for national teams like the Springboks is better understood as a reflection of the inclusivity and broad appeal of sporting culture. Colored South Africans opposed White supremacy, not White athletes and teams. The Colored press recognized White athletes as superior athletes because of their training and facilities, but they refuted any idea that race was a contributing factor. Indeed, most petitions from Colored athletes and fans asked to be included with Whites as equals. The international examples with whom Colored men identified broadened their voice and situated them within an international discourse of masculine ideals juxtaposed against racial discrimination.

Notes 1 See also Mohamed Adhikari, Not White Enough, Not Black Enough: Racial Identity in the South African Coloured Community (Athens: Ohio University Press, 2005); Vivian Bickford-Smith, Ethnic Pride and Racial Prejudice in Victorian Cape Town: Group Identity and Social Practice, 1875–1902 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995); Saul Dubow, Scientific Racism in Modern South Africa (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995); Grant Farred, Midfielder’s Moment: Coloured Literature and Culture in Contemporary South Africa (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 2000); and John Western, Outcast Cape Town (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1981). 2 The Cape Coloured Commission’s findings were published as Report of the Commission of Inquiry Regarding the Cape Coloured Population of the Union (Pretoria: Government Printer, 1937). For examples of Sarah Gertrude Millin’s work and descriptions of Colored stereotypes, see God’s Stepchildren (New York: Boni & Liveright, 1924); and The South Africans (New York: Boni & Liveright, 1927). Millin’s works were widely read in South Africa and the United States. 3 Millin, God’s Stepchildren, 251. 4 Sun (May 26, 1933).

104 C.S. Perkins

5 Peter Alegi, Laduma!: Soccer, Politics, and Society in South Africa, from Its Origins to 2010 (Scottsville, SA: University of KwaZulu-Natal Press, 2010); Chris Bolsmann, “White Football in South Africa: Empire, Apartheid and Change, 1892–1977,” Soccer and Society 11, nos. 1–2 ( January 2010): 29–45; Peter Alegi, African Soccerscapes: How a Continent Changed the World’s Game (Athens: Ohio University Press, 2010). 6 Christopher Merrett, Sport, Space and Segregation: Politics and Society in Pietermaritzburg (Scotsville, SA: University of KwaZulu-Natal Press, 2009), 12. Merrett notes, “The literature of the time used words and phrases such as ‘British manhood,’ ‘fighting spirit,’ ‘fair play’ and ‘hearty good fellowship.’” 7 Martin Crotty, Making the Australian Male: Middle-Class Masculinity 1870–1920 (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 2001), 57–58. The text in brackets is my clarification of the racial emphasis. 8 Jock Phillips, “The Hard Man: Rugby and the Formation of Male Identity in New Zealand,” in Making Men: Rugby and Masculine Identity, ed. John Nauright and Timothy J. L. Chandler (London: Frank Cass, 1996), 75. 9 See John Hargreaves, Sport, Power and Culture: A Social and Historical Analysis of Popular Sports in Britain (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1986); Dominic Malcolm, Globalizing Cricket: Englishness, Empire and Identity (London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2013); J.A. Mangan, The Cultural Bond: Sport, Empire, Society (New York: Routledge, 2013); J.A. Mangan, “Manufactured” Masculinity: Making Imperial Manliness, Morality and Militarism (New York: Routledge, 2011); Erik Nielsen, Sport and the British World, 1900–1930: Amateurism and National Identity in Australasia and Beyond (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014); and Brian Stoddart and Keith A.P. Sandiford, eds., The Imperial Game: Cricket, Culture and Society (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1998). 10 Robert Morrell, “Of Boys and Men: Masculinity and Gender in Southern African Studies,” Journal of Southern African Studies 24, no. 4 (December 1998): 617. 11 Robert Morrell, From Boys to Gentlemen: Settler Masculinity in Colonial Natal, 1880–1920 (Pretoria: University of South Africa Press, 2001), 91. 12 Albert Grundlingh, “Playing for Power?: Rugby, Afrikaner Nationalism and Masculinity in South Africa, c. 1900–c. 1970,” in Making Men: Rugby and Masculine Identity, ed. John Nauright and Timothy J.L. Chandler (London: Frank Cass, 1996), 182. 13 Sun (July 17, 1936). 14 See Bickford-Smith, Ethnic Pride and Racial Prejudice, 149–50; Albert Grundlingh, André Odendaal, and Burridge Spies, Beyond the Tryline: Rugby and South African Society (Johannesburg: Ravan Press, 1995); David R. Black and John Nauright, Rugby and the South African Nation: Sport, Cultures, Politics and Power in the Old and New South Africas (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1998), 48–9. 15 Phillip J. Hutchison, “Usually White, but Not Always Great: A Journalistic Archaeology of White Hopes, 1908–2013,” Journalism History 39, no. 4 (Winter 2014): 234. 16 Cape Standard (October 11, 1938). 17 See George M. Frederickson, White Supremacy: A Comparative Study of American and South African History (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1981), xviii; and Robert Vinson, The Americans are Coming!: Dreams of African American Liberation in Segregationist South Africa (Athens: Ohio University Press, 2012), 90. 18 Sun (June 25, 1937). 19 Cape Standard (September 6, 1937). Louis’s boxing nicknames included the “Brown Bomber,” the “Detroit Destroyer,” and the “Dark Destroyer.” 20 Die Burger (May 8, 1936). 21 Sun (May 15, 1936). 22 Theresa Runstedtler, “White Anglo-Saxon Hopes and Black Americans’ Atlantic Dreams: Jack Johnson and the British Boxing Colour Bar,” Journal of World History 21, no. 4 (2010): 661. 23 Patrick F. McDevitt, May the Best Man Win: Sport, Masculinity, and Nationalism in Great Britain and the Empire, 1880–1935 (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004), 60. 24 Cape Standard ( January 29, 1946).

Colored sportsmen in the South African press 105

25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59

Cape Standard (February 14, 1939). Sun (February 9, 1951). Sporting News (June 11, 1949). Sun (October 14, 1932). Sun (November 4, 1938). Alegi, Laduma!, 36. Sun (December 15, 1939). Sun (August 7, 1936). Ibid. Sun (July 1, 1938). Sun (June 24, 1938). Cape Standard (June 28, 1938). Sun (July 1, 1938). Mohamed F. Carim, Coolie, Come Out and Fight!: A South African Memoir of Love, Courage and Journeys to a Better Place (Johannesburg: Porcupine Press, 2013), 33. Carim also tells how one “enterprising backyard brewer” in his neighborhood sold her homebrew concoction as “Joe Louis Punch” (35). Sun (March 10, 1944). Cape Standard (September 6, 1938). Cape Standard (July 4, 1939). Sonny Thomas was the Non-European South African Lightweight Champion for several years during the late 1930s and 1940s. Cape Standard (July 25, 1944). Reference here is to Eddie Tolan, the African American sprinter who set multiple world records at the 1932 Olympic Games in Los Angeles and the 1935 World Championships in Melbourne, Australia. Sun (July 17, 1936). Sun (August 30, 1946). Cape Standard (August 30, 1946). Torch (August 1, 1949). The Torch was the official organ of the Non-European Unity Movement (NEUM), an amalgamation of black protest organizations. Black and Nauright, Rugby and the South African Nation, 48. Letter to the editor by William Scheepers, Sun (November 4, 1938). Cape Standard (September 27, 1938). Sun (July 7, 1939). Sun (October 11, 1946). Sun (May 28, 1948). Sun (October 11, 1946). Sun (May 28, 1948). Sun (March 19, 1948). Sporting News (August 1948). Golden City Post (March 13, 1955). Golden City Post (May 8, 1955). Drum (May 1955).

7 PLAYING AWAY FROM HOME The nature of soccer integration in South Africa, 1978–1984 Gustav Venter

Introduction Professional soccer under apartheid South Africa was played along segregated lines from its inception in 1959.1 Separate, racially defined controlling bodies administered the game for each of the country’s racial groups, and racial mixing on the field of play was prohibited by government policy.2 But this changed from 1978 onward as soccer integration was permitted largely due to increased internal and international pressure applied against the apartheid regime. In this regard, a number of former whites-only teams migrated to the National Professional Soccer League (NPSL), which had previously been for black teams only. From that point on, the NPSL became the first major South African sports league to be integrated with government approval—a significant development given that the abolition of apartheid was still more than a decade away. However, this integration was uneven, and throughout the league’s subsequent history the soccer media continued to refer to the majority of teams as either “black” or “white” based on their previous league affiliations as well as the predominant racial makeup of the respective squads. This chapter considers the nature of club integration in the NPSL during the period 1978–1984 from the perspective of former white National Football League (NFL) teams. The majority of these teams disappeared over time; consequently, studying their demise highlights some of the subterranean forces at play during the early years of full soccer integration. In addition, this chapter utilizes soccer leagues as an analytical lens through which to consider the convergence between sport, race, policy, and fandom in South African soccer at the time. In doing so, it contributes to the robust body of literature dealing with the historical nexus between sport and politics in South Africa. The role of sport in the fight against apartheid has been explored at length.3 In recent decades scholarly focus has shifted to the post-apartheid era and the resulting complications that have arisen as part of the integration process.4 This chapter

Soccer integration in South Africa 107

contributes to the latter line of inquiry by serving as a historical case study for the complexities of sporting integration. It also contributes to the growing scholarship on South African soccer more broadly—a trend that accelerated significantly around the time of the country’s hosting of the 2010 FIFA World Cup.5 As such, it addresses a notable gap within the literature—namely, the paucity of works dealing with government-sanctioned integration from the late 1970s onward.6 More than 25 years have passed since South African sport embarked on the uncertain path toward unity during the early 1990s. Despite the notable gains that have been made since the end of apartheid, the question of race still lingers uncomfortably in contemporary debates around sporting integration, especially insofar as demographic representation is concerned.7 While soccer is largely absent from these debates on account of being dominated at all levels by a large black African majority, this chapter does serve as a historical marker of the complicated set of variables that enter the playing field when considering sporting integration in a racially-divided country.

Background Throughout most of the 1970s, South Africa had three concurrent professional soccer leagues with different racial compositions and political alignments. The National Football League (NFL), formed in 1959, was the oldest of these and operated on a whites-only basis with the backing of the government.8 The National Professional Soccer League (NPSL), formed in 1967, also operated within government institutions but contained black players only.9 Opposed to both these leagues was the Federation Professional League (FPL), formed in 1969 and played on a nonracial basis. It was part of the broader sporting movement directly opposing apartheid and consequently operated without formal government sanction.10 The 1970s was a turbulent decade for South African politics as the apartheid state was placed under increasing international pressure in the wake of liberation movements gaining ground across Africa. The 1976 Soweto uprising also proved to be a seminal moment in the fight against apartheid. This unstable milieu was reflected within the sporting realm as well, particularly as far as professional soccer was concerned. For example, the early 1970s saw the arrival of the “multinational” sports policy in which the government permitted limited contact between different racial groups on the sports field under very specific conditions. Soccer was crucial to this process whereby the white authorities attempted to portray limited integration to the international community while still adhering to the central tenet of the apartheid doctrine—namely, separate development—domestically.11 It has been argued elsewhere that some of the temporary soccer integration that occurred as part of this process was significant in providing a preview of an alternative South Africa.12 This was partly the result of the multinational policy having been extended over time to allow more leeway with regard to racial mixing on the field of play. However, additional forces were also at work. In the case of soccer,

108 G. Venter

the NFL suffered a rapid decline during the middle of the 1970s, and the league was ultimately forced to disband after the 1977 season.13 This created a situation in which former NFL clubs were left scrambling for places in the two remaining leagues, the blacks-only NPSL and nonracial FPL. In the end, geography played a major role in these moves. The NPSL proved the more attractive proposition to the NFL’s stronger inland clubs, while the established coastal teams joined the FPL, which was operating mostly in the coastal belt. The government sanctioned the moves of white teams to the NPSL since this could be accommodated within the multinational sports policy that had been extended down to the club level in 1976. This allowed teams representing different racial groups to compete against each other in the same competition, although movement of individual players between black and white teams was not encouraged. There were also a number of complications with regard to white spectators entering black areas and vice versa. (These issues are explored later in this chapter.) The FPL continued to operate outside government institutions, and consequently the NFL teams that moved to the FPL did so without government backing. However, the FPL experiment was short-lived for former NFL teams on account of numerous problems that ensued, mostly as a result of the FPL’s massive increase in size (up from 11 to 17 teams) during the 1978 season.14 By the following year, the three strongest former NFL teams in the FPL jumped ship to the NPSL. It is the integrated context of this latter league with which this chapter is primarily concerned.

Policy matters An analysis of former NFL clubs within an integrated context immediately prompts the question of how these clubs were permitted to enter the NPSL and FPL by the government. This necessitates a brief note regarding policy developments. When reflecting on the uncertainty that prevailed in soccer circles during the period 1976–78, it is important to note the general state of confusion that also existed regarding the National Party’s sports policy, particularly after the amendments passed in September 1976. Some of the practical difficulties pertaining to the rollout of the policy were detailed by the minister of sport and recreation, Piet Koornhof, in a 1979 memorandum to the cabinet. Therein he referred to the fact that some National Party politicians applied immense pressure on local authorities not to make existing facilities available to clubs wanting to partake in multinational sport. This created a situation whereby multinational sport was acceptable in one constituency, but not so in a neighboring constituency just miles down the road. Koornhof stated that this created confusion among sport administrators, made a mockery of the policy, and also made it indefensible against criticism.15 Throughout 1977, it remained a contentious issue within National Party circles as various motions and speeches were tabled at all four provincial congresses.16 At the Cape congress, for example, Koornhof had to reassure delegates that “mixed sport remained contrary to party policy,” and that “the policy would in no way

Soccer integration in South Africa 109

threaten the identity of self-determination of the race groups.”17 The Rand Daily Mail reported that “delegates from five constituencies raised serious misgivings about increased racial mixing in sport” during the course of 1977, and that the inconsistent application of the policy was “said to be causing confusion among Nationalist voters, particularly in rural areas.”18 This inconsistent—or rather non-application of the policy was already evident in soccer early in 1977 when a number of white NFL players were signed by clubs from the FPL.19 These players tended to be from the NFL’s lower divisions or second stringers from top division clubs who were in search of a place on a first team elsewhere. This was indicative of a new climate in which individual players and club officials were willing to test the government’s resolve in terms of implementing its stated policy, which was still opposed to racially mixed clubs. The South African Institute of Race Relations (SAIRR), in its 1977 survey, states that by the end of the year it was generally accepted that mixed sport at club level was not illegal except as it might be affected by the liquor laws, the Group Areas Act and the Reservation of Separate Amenities Act, but that it still remained contrary to National Party Policy.20 Even more revealing are the dealings of Highlands Park—the NFL’s most successful club—with Koornhof prior to the 1978 season, the year in which the club intended to join the (black) NPSL. Not wanting to openly flaunt government policy, club chairman Rex Evans, along with two other board members, met with Koornhof during the latter part of 1977 to discuss Highlands Park’s intended move. Koornhof’s response, as recounted by Evans, is illuminating: We went to see him, had a long chat, told him our motivation and how we were going, and he gave us a million reasons why it couldn’t happen and so on and so forth, and he said you can’t do it. I had two other Highlands Park members with me … and we were very despondent. He was very courteous … We got up to leave his office, and as we were leaving the door—I had somehow just got behind the other guys … and he pulled me aside and he says: “Do it. I won’t stop you.”21 This episode represents a window into Koornhof’s role in paving the way for integrated soccer to become a reality in 1978. However, despite his tacit approval, two additional stumbling blocks remained, both of which related to legislation. The first of these concerned the fact that NPSL matches were regularly played on Sundays. This was done on account of the fact that many blacks worked six days per week and were therefore not in a position to watch or participate in matches played on Saturdays. However, Sunday sport was forbidden in white areas in the Transvaal at the time, thereby creating a problematic situation regarding the 1978 NPSL schedule. The home games of former NFL teams in the league were consequently not scheduled on Sundays that season. In July, Highlands Park sought permission from the government for a Sunday home game and the club was told

110 G. Venter

that it could proceed so long as no admission was charged. The police also indicated that such matches were “not desirable” in white areas, and as a result Highlands did not follow through with the idea.22 The second, and most notable, obstacle concerning integrated soccer related to the Group Areas Act and the requirement for whites to obtain permits allowing entry into black areas (and vice versa). This had been a problem particularly during the 1977 Mainstay League Cup—an experimental tournament that permitted limited, temporary movement of black and white players between clubs from different racially defined leagues—but shortly before the 1978 league season commenced a concession was obtained.23 In this regard, the Department of Sport and Recreation granted a blanket permit to the Football Council of South Africa (headed by George Thabe) for NPSL matches to take place in both white and black residential areas.24 This cleared the way—at least theoretically—for smoother administration of the new multiracial league at an operational level. This did not play out smoothly in practice, however. A central difficulty was the fact that, apart from needing government approval for a racially mixed sporting event to take place, there was also a second layer of permits required at a local level. This pertained to the use of facilities, which fell under the control of city councils, administrative boards, and other bodies.25 During the first few years of integrated soccer, this arrangement would prove to be operationally problematic, particularly insofar as spectators were concerned.

Crossing the divide: Uncertainty abounds The 1978 season saw five former NFL clubs, all based in the Transvaal, join the NPSL in order to continue their professional existence.26 Former NFL clubs that joined the NPSL found themselves in a radically different environment from the one they had played in during the life span of the NFL. The 1977 Mainstay League Cup, the first extended multiracial experiment at club level, served as an initial indicator regarding factors such as spectator violence (often intertwined with questionable refereeing), declining white attendance, and administrative difficulties. In terms of player movement, a legal battle erupted between Highlands Park and the FPL’s Dynamos United toward the end of the 1977 season. This essentially revolved around the validity of NFL player contracts in the context of the FPL’s takeover of operations. One such player was Tony Stathakis, who signed a contract with the Dynamos after being the top scorer for Highlands Park during the 1977 NFL season. The issue proved highly controversial, not only in terms of the question of player poaching, but more so as a result of testimony provided by Stathakis in an affidavit. The case became front-page news in the Rand Daily Mail when it was revealed that Stathakis claimed that Highlands Park’s chairman, Rex Evans, had told his team in December 1977 that it would be better if a black club won 1978’s (integrated) NPSL league title “to avoid friction between black and white clubs.”27 According to Stathakis, the chairman also “mentioned that security would be a problem because of the excitability of the supporters of black clubs. [Evans

Soccer integration in South Africa 111

reportedly] stated further that the Highlands players would be asked to avoid hard tackling, lest it be misinterpreted by the partisan supporters of the opposing club as dirty play and which could spark off violent behavior.”28 Whether those were Evans’s exact words—or whether he conveyed this message at all—is a moot point. The resulting speculation was indicative of the uncertainty that existed with regard to the prospect of multiracial soccer, particularly in light of the previous season’s controversial Mainstay League Cup competition. Stathakis’s claims were also in line with developments in the NPSL historically, especially in terms of the prevalence of violence at matches, which had posed a notable problem for administrators since the league’s inception.29 Table 7.1 constitutes a list of troubling incidents at NPSL matches during the period 1971–77. It is not meant to be an exhaustive list but provides credence to the notion that the NPSL did experience crowd trouble at matches on a fairly regular basis. Violence perpetrated by spectators was not confined to the NPSL and it should be noted that the NFL itself was certainly not trouble-free. For example, on July 30, 1977, the high-profile clash between Lusitano and Highlands Park “turned into a freefor-all with the referee fleeing the field and police with dogs having to go into action.”30 Bottle throwing was also a regular occurrence at NFL stadia like Hartleyvale in Cape Town, although it is worth pointing out that the superior facilities available to

TABLE 7.1 Crowd violence at NPSL matches, 1971–1977

Date

Incident

18 Sep 1971

Match between Mamelodi XI and Real Katlehong City abandoned after pitch invasion by supporters English guest referee, Norman Burtenshaw, runs for his life “after being set upon” by angry Orlando Pirates supporters NPSL endorses Johannesburg City Council’s decision to ban Pirates from Orlando Stadium after above-mentioned fan riot Pirates player Solomon Padi is hit by a stone; three other players injured in ensuing fracas Vaal Professionals supporters riot when Pirates are awarded a penalty; match abandoned with 30 minutes to play Orlando Stadium reopened and sees fan riot in which policemen are injured; 27 people appear in court Fan riots bring two matches to a premature conclusion Benoni United’s coach is chased away by home supporters after another loss One fan killed and two injured when a policeman opens fire during a match played at Thabong A referee is stabbed during a match between Kaizer Chiefs and AmaZulu Moroka Swallows Limited pay R98 to a referee for a wrist watch he lost after being attacked by supporters in August

31 May 1972 7 Jun 1972 24 Jun 1972 22 Jul 1972 5 Aug 1972 28 Jul 1973 24 Mar 1974 16 May 1976 11 Sep 1976 20 Sep 1976

Compiled from Gleeson, “History of the Castle League,” 5, 8, 9, 14, 17, 29, 31.

112 G. Venter

NFL clubs reduced the security risks faced by players, officials, and spectators. Peter Alegi’s analysis of the South African Soccer League (SASL)—the nonracial FPL’s forerunner during the period 1961–65—is invaluable in this regard: Overcrowding at [SASL] matches staged in inadequate, unsafe facilities created conditions in which fans’ participation easily derailed into violence. [Soccer] grounds open to blacks had no fences, walls, or moats to keep fans off the pitch, and there were very few policemen on duty. These conditions made burgeoning crowds difficult to control, and violence in and around SASL’s venues became more frequent. Excessive liquor consumption, rivalries between hard-core fans, and poor refereeing sparked fights, pitch invasions, stampedes, and riots at several SASL games.31 Alegi also points to the “widespread practice of high-stakes gambling on matches” as an additional factor that led to a rise in soccer violence during this period. Furthermore, “the development of [soccer] into a mass phenomenon in South Africa in the 1960s coincided with an intensification of fans’ emotional attachment to their particular clubs and beloved idols. Defeat became unacceptable to young devotees and thugs who formed their sporting culture in the poor, aggressive, male-dominated street culture of South African townships.”32 This analysis provides context to the uncertainty with which former NFL teams and their spectators entered the NPSL in 1978. The league’s administrators were clearly concerned about the security aspect as well, as evidenced by an interest-free loan of R30,000 obtained from league sponsor Mainstay, to be used for security-related improvements at grounds in the short term.33 In a more drastic development, it was also reported in the Star newspaper that vigilante groups would form part of tight security—“second in size only to the police anti-riot squads during the disturbances in black residential areas”—lined up by the NPSL for 1978. These groups, known in the townships as “The Mercenaries” and consisting mainly of hostel dwellers, were to be particularly attentive to the safety of white spectators attending their teams’ matches in black areas. In this regard, they were to “protect the fans in queues in the stadium during matches, escort them to their cars—which [were also to] be cared for during the match—[while also making] sure that they leave the townships safely.”34 During the buildup to the historic opening weekend of the newly integrated NPSL, Wits University, formerly from the NFL, planned to transport a number of its team’s supporters by bus to the Orlando Stadium, where it was set to face the Kaizer Chiefs, one of the most popular NPSL clubs. However, a few days before the game, the West Rand Administration Board (WRAB) effectively slapped a ban on white supporters attending the match by refusing to issue the required permits allowing entrance into Orlando.35 The purported reason for this decision given in the media related to the “lack of separate facilities” for black and white spectators at the Orlando Stadium.36 During the ensuing month, it emerged that the WRAB would allow no more than 30 white spectators (including team officials) at matches in black townships under its control, with board officials again quoted regarding the lack of separate facilities.37

Soccer integration in South Africa 113

Based on a memorandum to Koornhof, it would appear that the WRAB’s decision to limit white spectators to 30 in total was taken without the input of the minister (which is plausible since the issue of allowing whites into black areas fell outside Koornhof’s jurisdiction). The WRAB seemingly had no objection to white teams playing against black teams, but it implemented a policy whereby black spectators would receive preference at their teams’ home venues, with white spectators simultaneously limited “to a minimum.”38 The WRAB’s position was ostensibly based on existing facilities being regarded as inadequate to host all black spectators—not an inaccurate evaluation given the aforementioned references to burgeoning crowds and increased popularity of black professional soccer. Consequently, the WRAB apparently feared a situation whereby whites could potentially stream to these venues, resulting in “thousands of black spectators” having to be turned away at the gates. It was feared such a scenario would lead to friction and chaos, hence the limit on white spectators as a preventative measure.39 This line of argument was appreciably different from the purported reasons provided in the media, and reveals a hidden dimension to this saga. It also illustrates the multilayered complexity of administering multiracial soccer within the convoluted framework of apartheid legislation. The benefit of historical hindsight could possibly lead to an oversimplification of the WRAB’s standpoint as having been born out of unsubstantiated paranoia. In this view, the prospect of thousands of white supporters flocking to venues like Orlando Stadium could be dismissed as unrealistic or unfounded. Such a viewpoint would, however, have to be reconciled with the fact that prospective spectator-attendance patterns would probably have been difficult to project within the uncertain environment of multiracial soccer. In addition, the history of troubling incidents at NPSL matches, coupled with the reality of inadequate facilities for black sport in general, would have played into the thinking of government officials. The volatile nature of previous multinational experiments—particularly the 1975 Chevrolet Champion of Champions tournament40—as well as the more recent difficulties experienced during the 1977 Mainstay League Cup, also lingered in the background. Of course, these elements also have to be viewed against the backdrop of increased political unrest in South Africa during this period, particularly in the townships. The Soweto uprising of 1976, for example, and the subsequent spread of disturbances to other townships around the country into 1977, were still fresh in the memory.41 It is therefore worth speculating that, by limiting white spectators at black venues, the WRAB adopted a stance that—from its point of view—offered the minimum amount of risk in terms of potential conflict between opposing teams’ supporters. In this regard, it was reported later in 1978 that the police were reluctant to issue permits to white spectators wanting to attend matches in black areas “out of fear for the serious consequences that could sprout from a racial clash in a black residential area.”42

114 G. Venter

Trends in NPSL spectatorship The reported reluctance on the part of white supporters to travel with their teams into townships is an important introductory component to a broader discussion relating to spectatorship in the NPSL. It is argued here that the latter represents a critical dimension of an understanding of the struggles experienced by former NFL clubs from 1978 onward. The ensuing years saw a decisive drop in white attendance leading to further pressure on clubs in terms of their financial sustainability. Already during the first few months of the 1978 season, reports indicated that white support was on the decline. Lusitano, a Johannesburg-based club with a strong Portuguese following, was described as “one of the hardest hit among the top clubs,” having suffered a drop in average attendance from 5,000 per match (during the final NFL season in 1977) to around 3,000 for initial NPSL matches.43 This is particularly notable because, insofar as on-field performance was concerned, Lusitano was at its zenith during this period. Having narrowly missed winning the last contested NFL league title in 1977, the club would go on to claim the first-ever integrated NPSL league championship later in 1978. A reported drop in attendance is therefore surprising given the team’s success. As a result of falling attendance, club chairman John da Canha called for home matches to be allowed on Sundays, in the hope of attracting families back to the game.44 During the same month, the Cape Times highlighted this family dimension as a challenge facing teams: “A problem for the ex-NFL clubs concerns the family man. He used to take his wife and children to professional matches. Now he is nervous because of off-the-field violence and accordingly stays away. This is a problem which officials can [scarcely] afford to ignore.”45 The issue of violence at multiracial sporting events—in particular soccer—was gleefully seized on in some quarters of the conservative Afrikaans press as evidence that racial integration would lead to inevitable tension and chaos. In August 1978, Die Afrikaner, a Transvaal-based newspaper, carried a detailed account of problematic incidents at various events organized since Koornhof unveiled the government’s amended multinational sports policy in September 1976. Reference was made to the trouble experienced at the Mainstay League Cup matches in 1977, as well as to more recent developments. The latter included spectator clashes at a multiracial boxing event in Johannesburg featuring South African heavyweight Kallie Knoetze against Duane Bobick of the United States in February 1978.46 Reference was also made to an NPSL clash between Wits University and the Witbank Black Aces at the latter’s home field in Lynnville—a township on the outskirts of Witbank—the following month. The referee reportedly had to be led to shelter in a police van after the match, when unruly home fans caused an uproar after their team’s defeat. Some members of the police and other spectators also fled the scene after having stones hurled at them.47 Newspapers directed a barrage of criticism toward Koornhof—specifically regarding the concessions made toward allowing racial integration at the club level. However, setting this bias aside, the list of troubling incidents—irrespective of their framing—does provide context for the drop in white attendance observed at professional soccer matches during this period.

Soccer integration in South Africa 115

Highlands Park’s chairman, Rex Evans, confirmed a drop-off in white support during the early months of the season and speculated that this was indeed “out of fear.” This view was echoed by Trevor Dreyer, administrative manager of the Arcadia Shepherds. Evans did, however, rather optimistically expect white spectators to return “in time” once the uncertainty of the initial period had passed.48 The Germiston Callies reported an additional dimension to spectator movement— namely, an influx of black supporters to white venues such as Driehoek, the team’s home field. This was due to black teams’ traveling support, and created a situation whereby the supporters of former NFL teams were in some cases outnumbered when attending home matches. Abe Ephron, the Callies chairman, indicated that his team had drawn an average of around 500 spectators to Driehoek during the NFL’s final year and that this number was up to 3,000 for some matches during the early 1978 NPSL season. He admitted that “even some of the loyal 500 [white] fans of [1977] were now wavering in their support and [that] the majority of spectators were blacks.”49 It is argued here that the general decline in white attendance observed during the early part of the 1978 season was exacerbated by a number of crowd-related incidents at NPSL matches during the second half of the year, which undoubtedly harmed the league’s reputation and would have added to any sense of trepidation felt by white spectators. In the month of August, two particularly controversial incidents took place at Balfour Park and Rand Stadium. During a match between Highlands Park and AmaZulu, played at the former venue, approximately 50 traveling fans were reported to have stormed the pitch shortly after halftime. With their team trailing 3–0, they set upon the referee, Ephraim Motswana, who was subsequently stabbed in the process. He was eventually treated on the field then taken to the hospital, and the match was called off.50 Rand Stadium was the scene of an episode confirming some of the WRAB’s previously stated fears regarding overcrowding at venues—albeit not at a venue under its jurisdiction. Thousands of Kaizer Chiefs supporters arrived at the stadium by bus for a high-profile encounter against Lusitano. A capacity crowd of an estimated 38,000 fans crammed in to witness the game, but more significantly, another 15,000 to 20,000 reportedly congregated outside, unable to gain access to the match. Some of the stadium gates were subsequently stormed, leading to police intervention. Violent clashes ensued and a number of injuries were reported. Tear gas was also used to disperse the crowd.51 Officials were subsequently told that approximately 2,000 of the estimated 3,000 white supporters at the match had already left prior to kickoff “as they expected trouble.”52 The damage caused to some of Rand Stadium’s fencing during this episode led to the Johannesburg City Council announcing a R20,000 budget provision for the construction of a 100-meter-long wall (4 meters high and 40 centimeters thick) at the front of the stadium. Steel gates were also to be installed as part of an effort to prevent similar disturbances in the future. The NPSL was implored to limit future spectator numbers at the stadium to 30,000.53 Exactly how this was to be done would remain problematic, given that tickets were traditionally sold at the gates;

116 G. Venter

thereby large numbers of supporters could not be prevented from arriving at the venue itself, irrespective of its capacity. As the season wore on, the security situation did not improve. The following month saw referee Bernard Farrell being struck by “half a brick” during a match between the Germiston Callies and AmaZulu at Driehoek Stadium. He was taken to the hospital, and his replacement, Dave Griffith, received similar treatment from irate traveling supporters as more objects were hurled onto the field. The match was later delayed when fans rushed on to the field, and at the final whistle “Griffith had to receive protection to enable him to get back to the dressing room.” The Callies won the encounter 3–0.54 Referees were a regular target of violent fan behavior—so much so that the NPSL constitution at one point included a clause stating that “[players] of both teams shall, when and where necessary, protect the Referee and linesmen against assaults.”55 However, coaches were prone to receiving the same treatment if their teams produced unsatisfactory results. Stanley “Screamer” Tshabalala was one such example, as he “was attacked by a knife-wielding man” after his team, the Orlando Pirates, lost 1–0 to the Callies in October.56 In September 1978, the Financial Mail carried an article detailing the state of professional soccer in South Africa. It reported that a “problem for both leagues [was] the fall-off in Reef white attendances, mainly because of reports of crowd violence at NPSL matches.”57 Ultimately, the 1978 NPSL season would be described in some quarters of the soccer press as “the year of arguments and troubles” as a result of “riots at several big games.”58 Security was clearly a pressing concern heading into the 1979 season, so the league “made several loans to the owners of grounds, including Township Boards, on which NPSL games are played, to enable them to build security fences.”59 Green Point Stadium in Cape Town, home of Hellenic (which joined the league in 1979), also had security fencing installed as part of an inner perimeter to protect players and officials from crowds.60 The continued prevalence of violence at NPSL matches led to a warning from the minister of sport, Punt Janson, who stated that the “time [was] nearing when the Government and the administrators and sponsors of the game [would] have to get together and try to thrash out a solution to this problem, which seems to be growing instead of subsiding.”61 Janson communicated this view in an interview with the Sunday Times, in reaction to further incidents of trouble during matches played over the course of the first weekend in November. A photographer and policeman were “felled by bottles” at a Kaizer Chiefs–Arcadia Shepherds match at Rand Stadium, while a Dynamos player was hospitalized after being hit by a brick during a match against Benoni United at Balfour Park.62 It was against the backdrop of these developments that white attendance dropped off during the early years of the integrated NPSL. During the early months of the 1979 NPSL season, the Citizen pointed to the difficulty experienced by white spectators in obtaining permits for matches in black townships as significant63—although this would not have explained the drop-off in home attendance in white areas. The newspaper’s early season sample of NPSL matches comprised 73 games up to that point—of which 51 had been staged in black townships, thereby leaving 22 games that whites could

Soccer integration in South Africa 117

have watched more freely. Yet of those 22 games, a large majority (15) were played on Friday nights—a time slot when there was “competition from TV, the pub and, with winter fast approaching, the cold.”64 Saturdays were described as the “day that a White family in the days of the old National Football League set aside for soccer,” having “had a choice of at least three games on the Reef” during Saturday afternoons.65 It is difficult to gauge the impact of individual factors—such as the arrival of television in South Africa in 1976, for example—on white attendance in isolation. The South African Broadcasting Corporation (SABC) first started showing NFL soccer matches in 1977,66 but this coverage was limited due to the facts that there was only one television channel and that SABC’s TV sports programming was confined to a Saturday afternoon time slot.67 This meant that only one live match, whether it be soccer or another sport such as rugby, could be shown in a given week; as a result, the best way for soccer supporters to follow their teams through the season was still mostly by attending in person. In addition, the arrival of television in the country as a whole did not mean that all white households would immediately become viewers. The Rand Daily Mail reported in March 1976 on the high cost of TV sets in South Africa during the early months of the medium’s introduction.68 However, the broadcasting of selected live matches could certainly not have helped white stadium attendance. Despite a positive outlook from some teams’ chairmen—most notably Rex Evans of Highlands Park—the decrease in white spectatorship was never reversed. In October 1983, the veteran soccer writer Vernon Woods summarized the state of professional soccer: Blacks are streaming through the turnstiles, but primarily when a black team is involved. Inter-white-team matches draw peanuts. Rightly or wrongly white fans, if still interested in soccer, boycott the NPSL while white-run clubs fail to attract black support. But for black support, let’s face it, SA professional soccer would die.69 More recently, the noted soccer journalist and commentator Mark Gleeson regarded the virtual disappearance of white support as the most important problem facing former NFL clubs in the NPSL: I think the massive challenge was the complete desertion of their support … and which ultimately today means that there’s none of [the former NFL clubs] around, except for Wits, who never really were an NFL club. So the massive erosion of their support … the fact that the white community basically deserted [soccer], and has never really come back.70 In Gleeson’s view, the controversy surrounding the 1975 Chevrolet Champion of Champions final between Hellenic and the Kaizer Chiefs represents “the pivotal point” precipitating this decline, since the incident demonstrated the potentially volatile nature of racially mixed soccer.71 The aforementioned analysis of the

118 G. Venter

decrease in white spectatorship at NPSL matches provides important context for events that led to the disappearance of former NFL clubs over time. An erosion of their respective white support bases not only represented a direct financial challenge in terms of gate revenue, but also weakened these clubs in terms of potential sponsorship or new ownership.

Player movement Throughout the history of the integrated NPSL, media outlets continued to refer to the majority of clubs as either “black” or “white” based on the predominant racial makeup of the squads. This was partly the result of a relative lack of integration within the team—at least not to the point where the racial makeup of clubs prior to 1978 was altered beyond recognition. This was especially true in the case of former NFL teams. The fact is that the arrival of government-sanctioned integrated professional soccer in 1978 did not result in an immediate mass crossover of players from different racial groups between the various clubs. In this regard, statistics provided to Piet Koornhof in August 1978 indicated that a total of 24 blacks had moved to white soccer clubs up to that point in the season, while six whites had moved to clubs from racial groups other than white.72 In the coming years, however, a notable number of white players did sign on for black clubs. The playing career of Phil Venter is an oft-cited example since the former Germiston Callies defender (in the NFL) became the first white player to ply his trade for all three of the so-called Soweto giants—namely, the Orlando Pirates, Moroka Swallows, and Kaizer Chiefs.73 A glance at Chiefs team photos of the 1980s also confirms a fair sprinkling of whites in the first team.74 From a purely numerical standpoint, it can be argued that the movement of white players to black clubs was partly a logical outcome of the gradual disappearance of former NFL clubs. Abdul Bhamjee, the former public relations officer of the nonracial FPL, who later took up the same role within the NPSL, stated early in 1985 that “almost 40% of the first division players in the NPSL were white.”75 It is therefore instructive to note that during the 1984 season 28 percent (five out of 18) of the first division clubs were formerly from the NFL. The fact that this proportion was smaller than the total number of white players in the league vis-à-vis those of other races was indicative of an inevitable flow of some white players to black teams as they attempted to continue their professional careers in the country’s top league. Bhamjee also noted that “it was particularly gratifying in our non-racial set-up to see three and more whites regularly included in teams like Kaizer Chiefs and Orlando Pirates.”76 It is worth reflecting on another dynamic—namely, pre-integration fears expressed by black officials regarding white clubs potentially purchasing the top black players to the detriment of established (black) NPSL teams. George Thabe, arguably the most powerful South African soccer official at the time, expressed these fears before the arrival of sanctioned, integrated professional soccer in 1978.77 In fact, Tony Stathakis, the player at the center of a contract controversy between

Soccer integration in South Africa 119

Highlands Park and the Dynamos after the 1977 season, claimed in his court affidavit that it had been agreed that white clubs would not be allowed to approach top black players in the NPSL, but that black clubs would be entitled to attract top white players. He stated that this “was for the purpose of attempting to equalize the strength of the teams in the NPSL.”78 Evans recently stated unequivocally that “this issue was never discussed,” directly contradicting the testimony of Stathakis.79 Such an agreement as Stathakis alleged may not have existed (even informally), but if so, the question remains as to why former NFL teams appear to have obtained relatively few black players after the inception of integrated professional soccer in 1978. It is particularly noteworthy that two of the NPSL’s brightest stars, Jomo Sono and Patrick “Ace” Ntsoelengoe,80 never played for former NFL teams in the integrated NPSL—this after Durban City’s chairman, Norman Elliott, claimed in 1974 that he would “write out a R20 000 cheque to Orlando Pirates for Sono” immediately if he had permission to play him. Elliott also stated confidently that Sono was “worth five times that amount on the international market.”81 With the benefit of historical hindsight, it is possible to argue that Thabe’s fear regarding an exodus of black talent to former NFL clubs was unwarranted, primarily as a result of the financial struggles experienced by these white clubs. It is also important to note that a concomitant development saw a number of the very best black (and white) players begin to sign contracts with clubs in the North American Soccer League (NASL) from the mid-1970s onward.82 This meant that these players were not available for the majority of the South African soccer season, leaving during the early part of the year and only returning during the latter stages of each league campaign once the NASL games had concluded. Sono himself amassed considerable wealth during his six-year career in the NASL.83 In 1980, he was quoted regarding the annual player exodus to the United States: Players are getting a raw deal and will never be able to make a living out of soccer in South Africa, at least not while the present state of affairs continues. Most of the players seek greener pastures overseas because they know they can get a better deal over there.84 According to Toy Mostert, an agent for many of the players who moved to the NASL, players’ wages were upgraded “by 400%” through these transfers which also netted “attractive signing fees” for both the player and his South African club.85 Other prominent black players who played in the NASL during this period include Ntsoelengoe (1973–84), Webster Lichaba (1979–81), Andries Maseko (1978–80), and Kenneth Mokgojoa (1978–81).86 Local clubs (black or white) clearly could not compete financially, which meant that during the first few years of the integrated NPSL a number of star players were unavailable for the majority of each season. Gleeson proposes the existence of an additional dimension when considering the relative lack of movement of black players to former NFL clubs—namely, the social realities prevalent in South Africa at the time:

120 G. Venter

[When] you bought a black player, you didn’t really buy a black player— because although he came with the potential of winning you games there was a lot of other potential difficulties around his integration with the rest of the team et cetera, et cetera. That was certainly the time where there was no … social mingling and a lot of those white teams were sort of a gang of buddies and a lot of their … success [relied] on the passion they brought to the game, the sort of fighting spirit for each other—that was … part of their strength and to almost potentially soil it with an uncomfortable social situation I think was not an attraction for club owners … It doesn’t make logical sense today but in the prevailing atmosphere of the time it was … uncomfortable. Black players were uncomfortable to move to white teams, I think whites were uncomfortable to have blacks … within the team dynamic.87 It can be argued that a black player had to be of star quality in order to make him attractive to former NFL teams; otherwise, the potential complications of integrating into the team would have acted as a possible counterweight to his playing ability. Yet, as has been demonstrated, a number of the star players were unavailable on account of their commitments to the NASL, and when coupled with the financial strain under which former NFL clubs operated, it explains—at least partially—why these clubs would have found it difficult to invest large sums of money toward acquiring the best black players via the transfer market. It is also worth noting that Jerry Sadike, who was born and bred in Orlando East and played for Highlands Park during the period 1978–81, was at times labeled a “sellout” by certain segments of black supporters.88 Kenneth Mokgojoa, another Highlands Park player, also reported being booed by black supporters who felt that he was on “a wrong club.”89 While it is difficult to ascertain how widespread this practice was, these two examples serve to illustrate the social realities that black players were potentially faced with upon moving to former NFL clubs.

Conclusion Throughout the history of the integrated NPSL, former NFL teams were the subject of various forces of attrition. These included financial difficulties, the erosion of their white fan support, and various logistical challenges within the integrated context. The demographics of South African soccer were changing during this period, and by the time soccer unity arrived in 1991, only two former NFL teams remained in South Africa’s top professional tier.90 The period 1978–1984 serves as a valuable lens through which to consider the intersection between sport, politics, and race within a rapidly changing South Africa. Despite the uneven and sometimes troubling nature of soccer integration during this period, arguably this process was significant in the context of the final phase of apartheid. It serves as a valuable reminder that—in a society obsessed with group rights and classifications—it was ultimately the role of individuals who made decisions to defy the orthodoxy of the time that helped dismantle the old order.

Soccer integration in South Africa 121

Notes 1 The words “soccer” and “football” are used interchangeably in South Africa. In this chapter “soccer” has been used for consistency, except where the names of controlling bodies specifically contain the word “football.” 2 Under apartheid, South African citizens were classified as black, colored, Indian, or white. The term “colored” denotes individuals of mixed racial heritage. 3 For a key text see Douglas Booth, The Race Game (London: Frank Cass, 1998). 4 For an overview see Ashwin Desai, ed., The Race to Transform: Sport in Post-Apartheid South Africa (Cape Town: HSRC Press, 2010). 5 See, for example, Peter Alegi and Chris Bolsmann, eds., South Africa and the Global Game: Football, Apartheid and Beyond (London: Routledge, 2010). 6 For one such work see Peter Alegi and Chris Bolsmann, “From Apartheid to Unity: White Capital and Black Power in the Racial Integration of South African Football, 1976–1992,” African Historical Review 42, no. 1 (2010): 1–18. 7 See, for example, Christopher Merrett, Colin Tatz, and Daryl Adair, “History and Its Racial Legacies: Quotas in South African Rugby and Cricket,” Sport in Society: Cultures, Commerce, Media, Politics 14, no. 6 (2011): 754–77. 8 For an overview of the league and its decline, see Gustav Venter, “Long Balls in the Dying Moments: Exploring the Decline of South Africa’s National Football League, 1970–1977,” International Journal of the History of Sport 32, no. 2 (2015): 265–85. 9 Prior to 1971, players from any of the three racial groups other than white could participate in the NPSL, but from 1971 on, it was reorganized as a league for blacks only. 10 For insight on nonracial sport in South Africa and its approach of noncooperation with government structures, see Douglas Booth, “Hitting Apartheid for Six?: The Politics of the South African Sports Boycott,” Journal of Contemporary History 38, no. 3 (2003): 477–93. 11 The concept of “separate development” dictated that South Africa’s different racial groups had to be developed separately. 12 Gustav Venter, “Slippery under Foot: The Shifting Political Dynamics within South African Football, 1973–1976,” South African Historical Journal 69, no. 2 (2016): 16. 13 For a summary of this transitional phase, see Gustav Venter, “Gone and Almost Forgotten?: The Dynamics of Professional White Football in South Africa, 1959–1990” (PhD diss., Stellenbosch University, 2016), 177–83. 14 For a summary of the 1978 FPL season, see ibid., 186–203. 15 “Verleentheidsituasies wat reeds ontstaan het met betrekking tot die sport politiese situasie in S. A.” [Embarrassing situations that have already arisen with regards to the sport political situation in South Africa], in Departement van sport en ontspanning kabinetsmemorandum [Department of Sport and Recreation Cabinet Memorandum], September 11, 1979, file PV476/1/34/39/2, Piet Koornhof Private Documents, Archive for Contemporary Affairs, University of the Free State, South Africa [hereafter cited as Koornhof Papers]. 16 Loraine Gordon, Suzanne Blignaut, Sean Moroney, and Carole Cooper, comps., with contributions by Muriel Horrell, A Survey of Race Relations in South Africa, 1977 (Johannesburg: South African Institute of Race Relations, 1978), 558. 17 “Club Mixing Is Not Policy—Koornhof,” Rand Daily Mail (August 25, 1977), 5. 18 Ibid. 19 Marlan Padayachee, “Transfer Market,” Fed Fan (March 1977), 9. 20 Gordon et al., Survey of Race Relations, 1977, 559. 21 Rex Evans, interview with the author, Johannesburg, February 11, 2015. 22 Mark Gleeson, “History of the Castle League” (unpublished manuscript, 2003), 43. The author is indebted to Mark Gleeson for providing this valuable timeline of the league’s history. 23 For a full summary of this tournament, see Venter, “Gone and Almost Forgotten?,” 149–68. 24 Jimmy Tloti, “Now ’It’s Official—NFL Clubs Can Play in Soweto,” Rand Daily Mail (February 16, 1978), 22.

122 G. Venter

25 Loraine Gordon, Suzanne Blignaut, Carole Cooper, and Linda Ensor, comps., with contributions by Muriel Horrell, Survey of Race Relations in South Africa, 1978 (Johannesburg: South African Institute of Race Relations, 1979), 488. 26 The Transvaal is an inland province known for its mining resources and containing the major cities of Johannesburg and Pretoria. 27 Errol Symons, “Soccer Ace’s Shock ‘Go Easy’ Claim,” Rand Daily Mail (February 2, 1978), 1. 28 Ibid. 29 The NPSL came into being as the professional arm of the South African Bantu Football Association in 1967. The relationship with SA Breweries was forged in 1971 as the NPSL’s “Keg League” was launched that year. See Peter Alegi, Laduma!: Soccer, Politics and Society in South Africa (Scottsville, SA: University of KwaZulu-Natal Press, 2004), 187. 30 Gary Dixon and John Dunn, “The Ugly Diary of Shame … ,” Sunday Times (November 11, 1979), file S341.7.3, South African Institute of Race Relations (SAIRR) Press Cuttings 1928–1998 (Part A), Historical Papers Research Archive, William Cullen Library, University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg, SA [hereafter cited as SAIRR press clippings]. 31 Alegi, Laduma!, 130. 32 Ibid., 130–31. 33 “Mainstay Sponsors NPSL KO Series,” South African Soccer (April 1978), 7. 34 Fanyana Shiburi, “Security: Soccer’s New Plan,” Star (February 24, 1978), file S341.7.3, SAIRR press clippings. 35 “Sokkerwedstryd nie vir blankes” [Soccer Match Not for Whites], Beeld (March 3, 1978), file S341.7.3, SAIRR press clippings. 36 Ibid. 37 “Koornhof Knew about Bar on White Spectators,” Cape Times (April 1, 1978), file PV476/1/34/31/2, Koornhof Papers. 38 Beyers Hoek, Department of Sport and Recreation Memo (April 4, 1978), 2, file PV476/1/34/31/2, Koornhof Papers. 39 Ibid. 40 For details on this tournament, see Venter, “Gone and Almost Forgotten?,” 91–103. 41 David Welsh, The Rise and Fall of Apartheid (Johannesburg: Jonathan Ball, 2009), 161–62. 42 “Bont sportbyeenkomste word bloedbaddens” [Mixed Sport Events Becoming Bloodbaths], Die Afrikaner (August 18, 1978), 5; translated from Afrikaans. 43 “Lusitano Want Home Games on Sundays,” South African Soccer (May 1978), 16. 44 Ibid. 45 “Whites Staying Away from Mixed Soccer,” Cape Times (May 12, 1978), 20. 46 “Bont sportbyeenkomste word bloedbaddens,” 5. 47 Ibid. 48 “Whites Staying Away,” 20. 49 Ibid. 50 “Geweld bars weer los by bont sokker” [Violence Erupts Again at Mixed Soccer], Die Afrikaner (August 25, 1978), 1; Vernon Woods, “Soccer’s Shame,” Sunday Express (September 24, 1978), file S341.7.3, SAIRR press clippings. 51 “Geweld bars weer los by bont sokker,” 1; “Riots Are Crippling Soccer’s Progress,” Sharpshoot Soccer (September/October 1978), 8. 52 Leon du Plessis, “R20 000 Riot Wall for Rand Stadium,” Citizen (September 6, 1978), file S341.7.3, SAIRR press clippings. 53 Ibid. 54 Woods, “Soccer’s Shame.” 55 National Professional Soccer League Constitution, n.d., 24, file PC114/1/1/3, Football Association of Natal and KwaZulu (FANK) papers, Alan Paton Centre, University of KwaZulu-Natal, Pietermaritzburg, South Africa. 56 Force Khashane, “Stanley Threatens to Quit,” Post (October 31, 1978), file S341.7.3, SAIRR press clippings. 57 “Who Scores?,” Financial Mail (September 1, 1978), file S341.7.3, SAIRR press clippings. The article is referring to both the NPSL and the nonracial FPL.

Soccer integration in South Africa 123

58 “NPSL Must Hand the Offenders a Life Ban,” Sharpshoot Soccer (February 1979), 28. 59 Sefako Nyaka, “NPSL Still Financing Security,” Rand Daily Mail (April 27, 1979), file S341.7.3, SAIRR press clippings. 60 Ibid. 61 Gary Dixon and John Dunn, “Stop! Or We’ll Step In—Punt,” Sunday Times (November 11, 1979), file S341.7.3, SAIRR press clippings. Janson took over the portfolio of minster of sport and recreation from F. W. de Klerk during the course of 1979. De Klerk himself succeeded Koornhof at the end of 1978. 62 Ibid. 63 Derek Amoore, “Why Whites Miss Out in Soccer,” Citizen (April 26, 1979), file S341.7.3, SAIRR press clippings. 64 Ibid. 65 Ibid. 66 Alegi, Laduma!, 142. 67 Ian Reid, “Will It Become a Spoil-Sport?” Rand Daily Mail (March 26, 1976), 15. 68 “Why SA TV Sets Cost So Much,” Rand Daily Mail (March 30, 1976), 20. 69 Vernon Woods, “Whites’ Tragedy Is of Their Own Making,” Frontline (October 31, 1983), 26. 70 Mark Gleeson, interview with the author, Cape Town, July 28, 2015. 71 Ibid. 72 Beyers Hoek, Vermenging van Sportlui: Statistiek 1978 [Mixing of Sportspeople: Statistics 1978] (August 7, 1978), file PV476/1/34/37/1, Koornhof Papers. 73 Peter Raath, Soccer through the Years: 1862–2002 (Cape Town: self-published, 2002), 181. 74 Sekola Sello, Chiefs, 21 Glorious Years: The Official History of SA’s Glamour Football Club (Johannesburg: Skotaville, 1991), 97–104. The 1984 first-team photo contains three whites. 75 “Another Record Year for the NPSL,” South African Soccer (February 1985), 24. 76 Ibid. 77 For details regarding Thabe’s fears, see Venter, “Gone and Almost Forgotten?,” 142–45. 78 Symons, “Soccer Ace’s Shock ‘Go Easy’ Claim,” 1. 79 Rex Evans, e-mail to author (July 14, 2015). Mark Gleeson also believes that there was never such an agreement regarding player acquisitions. Gleeson interview, July 28, 2015. 80 As a point of reference, these two players scored all five of the goals in the first integrated South African national team’s 5–0 win over the visiting Argentine Stars XI in 1976. For details regarding this event, see Venter, “Slippery under Foot,” 14–18. 81 Sy Lerman, “Elliott: Sono Is Worth R20 000,” Rand Daily Mail (April 19, 1974), 32. 82 The NASL spanned the period 1968 to 1984 and represented an attempt to establish professional soccer in the United States of America. See David Goldblatt, The Ball Is Round: A Global History of Football (London: Penguin Books, 2007), 529–31. 83 Sono played for the New York Cosmos in 1977, followed by stints with the Colorado Caribous (1978), Atlanta Chiefs (1979), and Toronto Blizzard (1980–82). See Mark Gleeson, “American Soccer Shapes South African Game,” Soccer America (June 5, 2000), 13, http://library.la84.org/SportsLibrary/SoccerAmerica/2000/sa1456k.pdf. 84 “Where Does All the Money Go?” South African Soccer (May 1980), 8. 85 Sy Lerman, “Talking Soccer,” South African Soccer (April 1980), 21. 86 For a full list of South African players who played in the NASL, see Gleeson, “American Soccer,” 13. 87 Gleeson interview, July 28, 2015. 88 Sekola Sello, “The Highlands Striker Who Doesn’t Live in the Suburbs” (n.d.), scanned press clipping, in Julian Turner, The History of South African Football 1955–1985: Segregation to Integration, DVD-ROM Disc 4 (2012). 89 “Kenneth ‘The Horse’ Mokgojoa,” Sharpshoot Soccer Mirror (March 1983): 29. 90 For details regarding the disappearance of former NFL teams leading up to 1991, see Venter, “Gone and Almost Forgotten?,” 240–52.

8 EXAMINING PHYSICAL CULTURE IN A LOCAL CONTEXT Francois Cleophas

Introduction This chapter extends an existing work on physical culture in South African society.1 The concept of physical culture refers herein to a range of practices concerned with the maintenance, representation, and regulation of the body centered on sport, physical education, and play. It was originally associated with health and fitness training or exercise systems in the nineteenth-century English-speaking world.2 The aim of this chapter is to present cultural and social interpretations of issues relating to physical culture participation by Black South Africans. Historians of sport use “sport” in an overarching manner that relates to physical activities that are common to humankind.3 The term “physical culture” was prominent in nineteenth-century and early twentieth-century European discourse, but in English-speaking countries since the 1930s it has disappeared from everyday use.4 A study of physical culture and related concepts such as playgrounds, game playing, and exercise has opened new windows through which to view the past.5 Physical culture also assists researchers in understanding how people viewed “race” in the past. Such a study could inform a range of parties (program developers, sports coaches, teachers, community activists) about the sociopolitical context of human bodies and movement, of discipline and freedom, of constructing bodily movement, as specific to cultural contexts. Such information could become significantly useful as these parties grapple with issues relating to the redress of past injustices.6 This chapter explores the unfolding of British physical culture values and practices at a local level within an African context.

British origins of physical culture Physical culture came into the vocabulary of the English-speaking world at a time when European systems of gymnastics, such as those of Per Henrik Ling

Physical culture in a local context 125

and Friedrich Ludwig Jahn, were having a profound impact on education and the military.7 To explain social and political connotations attached to physical culture, it is useful to refer to Matthew Arnold’s attempt at a scientific nomenclature for the structure of nineteenth-century British society.8 Arnold classified this society into three parts: Barbarians, Philistines, and the Populace. The Barbarians were the aristocrats, and the Philistines the middle class (petty bourgeoisie), while the Populace represented the working class. Arnold attributed character traits to each group. He presented the Barbarians as staunch individualists, well organized, and the ones who controlled sport at the beginning of the nineteenth century along the lines of personal liberty. They often did not participate in the same sports as the Populace, or they employed the Populace to perform their sports for them. The Barbarians made no attempt to hand down sports to the Populace, whom Arnold saw as morally underdeveloped and governed only by their impulses.9 In the meantime, the Philistines developed their own games, distinct from the Barbarians and the Populace, such as athletics, hockey, soccer, and tennis. They also infiltrated the Barbarian strongholds of cycling, rowing, and rugby. By the middle of the nineteenth century, after some initial reluctance, the Philistines welcomed the Populace into their sports, provided they would conform their behavior to the etiquette of good manners and fair conduct in play. Many Philistines went further and introduced games and sports with a religious motive to the Populace.10 Arnold saw a cultured society as a society that attempts to become more aware and appreciative of beauty and what is appropriate, and to help instill in others also such appreciation and awareness.11 During the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, physical culture carried connotations of working-class people trying to uplift themselves with the help of the petty bourgeoisie and religious agencies through the instilling of values.12 Body culture, from which sports and athletics derived, had as its basis the structure and scope of human nature in a variety of cultural activities. Thus, a well-known physical culturalist in South Africa, Tromp van Diggelen, was a strongman, nature-cure specialist, deep-sea fisherman, and probably the first South African international racing driver.13 Van Diggelen was the typical physical culturalist who extended bodiliness into other areas of cultural activity. Physical culture was widely used in the early twentieth century to provide a veneer of ancient and classical respectability to practices that were populist and regarded by the middle classes as “down market.”14 As a “civilizing” and “high culture” project, physical culture in subaltern communities (Arnold’s Populace) therefore needed to reflect middle-class (Arnold’s Philistine) values.15 Into the twentieth-century, a person with “high culture” in Cape society was defined as someone who strove daily to live a life of self-sacrifice and cleanliness.16 In Cape Town, “high-culture” projects were directed by teacher organizations such as the Teachers’ Educational Professional Association (TEPA). In 1952, for example, the Salt River branch of TEPA was responsible for establishing an eisteddfod (Welsh literary and music festival) committee.17 Physical culture formed part of the eisteddfod

126 F. Cleophas

program with the aim of creating opportunities for Colored families to discover and develop their talents.18 The Colored elite promoted classical works as the height of human artistic achievement. They advocated that “to be exposed to these works, helped one to become cultured and civilized.”19 Not only interest and engagement with classical artworks were seen to be signifiers of being “cultured,” but also nonparticipation in certain sports, such as amateur boxing. In Cape Town, there were sections of the organized Colored teaching profession that also opposed certain physical culture projects on political grounds. At the executive committee meeting of the TLSA in April 1945, a resolution was passed to boycott the Health, Anti-Waste and Welfare Week that was organized by the State Social Services and the Cape Town Council. The reason for the boycott was that a color bar was included for the physical culture section of the program. This call for a boycott was apparently successful as only one school participated in the physical culture program.20

Evolution of physical culture in twentieth-century Cape Town Pre-World War II There was a belief among the Colored elite that dysfunctional communities could be “saved” through discipline and developing an appreciation for culture. These ideas gained popularity after World War I and gave impetus to the expansion of physical culture.21 After the war, there were attempts to institutionalize physical culture along the lines of “high culture” in Cape Town’s Colored community, and in 1919, a School for Physical Culture (also known as the Empire Sporting Club) was opened in District Six where “young fellows could be versed in the noble of art of self-defense … and give displays of boxing and physical culture.”22 This club was under the control of a Rhodesian man, J.J. Meyers, who claimed to be the South African Colored bantamweight boxing champion and arranged a match between himself and Arthur Cupido that same year.23 Judging by media reports of the time, a state of gender bias, race consciousness, pursuit of “high culture,” and White dependence in physical culture prevailed in the Colored community. This can be seen in the reported aim of the club—namely, to teach young Colored males the “noble art” of self-defense. Because White segments of the population supported the club, the enrollment number was higher than expected.24 The club also showed a visible loyalty to the British war effort by staging an all-night Peace Ball.25 When the Silvertree Physical Culture Club was established in Cape Town in 1928, a similar trait of striving after high culture was evident in the stated objectives: (1) to inculcate a sense of responsibility toward the community among the Colored youth; (2) to teach self-discipline to the individual and the group; (3) to train junior leaders; and (4) to foster an interest in hobbies and healthy pastimes.26 Some Capetonians were drawn to physical culture for its ability to attract enthusiastic crowds. This was the motive behind the establishment in 1933 of a School of Physical Culture for non-European youths in the Metropolitan Bioscope

Physical culture in a local context 127

Hall, in District Six. By then, physical culture had become a broad concept, which included many aspects of human movement and cultural activities that crossed racial divides in segregated Cape Town. This was very evident with the establishment of the Eoan Group in 1933, which established physical culture clubs in the Cape Town city center and surrounding suburbs.27 The Eoan Group was formed due to the initiatives of Mrs. Southern-Holt, a White businesswoman who immigrated to South Africa in 1930.28 She claimed it was a cultural, social, and educational body for the Colored community of Cape Town, and presented the group as a promoter of “high culture.”29 When the Eoan Group first appeared in ballet dresses, they were booed, while the tap dancers were called back for an encore.30 In similar mode, when the Eoan Group appointed a local schoolteacher with the purpose of advancing physical culture, it was with the purpose of addressing the skollie (hooligan) problem.31 In order to avoid state repression, the Eoan Group succumbed to segregation measures, such as having separate entrances and seating arrangements for different races at its events. This drew criticism from radical movements such as the Non-European Unity Movement.32 The Sun newspaper, which had a predominantly Colored audience, reported on the views of Prof. M.D. Thompson, an Indian who advertised himself as a physical culture expert. Thompson regarded physical culture as a means of combating ignorance of healthy living.33 He stated that physical culture was universally accepted as the surest way to secure health, as well as mental and physical development, and he encouraged city children to play games in fresh air. They should also live a clean hygienic life, eat healthy food, and have sufficient rest and sleep. Thompson emphasized the connection between physical culture and science by claiming that poverty, undernourishment, overcrowding, and squalid conditions were not the only sources of contagious diseases. Another cause was ignorance of nature’s laws.34 Physical culture was also an experience that linked human movement activities to charity, sport, and community life, often across the color bar. In 1940, the Bokmakierie Physical Culture Club, which was located in a Colored housing scheme based on residential segregation,35 organized a concert and display in the Gleemore Town Hall under the direction of Archibald Richards.36 Here, a wrestling instructor, “Tantor,” would make an official attempt on the Western Province bent press (weight lifting) record. Such events were in most cases organized for the purpose of raising funds for some charitable organization or cause, and occasionally drew the support of White physical culturalists. Thus, Tromp van Diggelen agreed to serve as one of the judges, and funds would go toward the purchase of better equipment for the club.37 Awareness of “race” was high in South Africa during the 1930s, which was a time when Afrikaner identity and nationalism grew stronger.38 On the other end of the racial scale, George Manual sounded a wake-up call for Colored youths.39 Mildred Kay, one of the few Colored women Bachelor’s of Arts degree holders, stated that physical culture programs for Colored boys and natural movement activities for girls were important mechanisms to deal with the effects of bad housing, poor diet, parents’ ignorance of the laws of health, and poor school accommodations.40

128 F. Cleophas

On the global front, the period leading up to World War II was the era of nationalism and global aggression where masses were being mobilized around myths, legends, and symbols of extraordinary power. A Soviet medical adviser to the pre-war All Union Physical Culture Council, Dr. Matveyev, reportedly said that sport had two objectives: propaganda for abroad, and the physical training of the Red Army and the People’s Commissariat for Internal Affairs.41 Back in Cape Town, physical culture was a reality in Colored community life, and media reports appeared about Colored people in the Soviet Physical Culture Parade in Moscow.42 European nations developed youth movements as instruments of social conformity that provided institutional expression to safeguard middle-class interests while at the same time making sufficient provision for working-class leisure.43 In Cape Town, Manual advocated these European human-movement developments and quoted the works of Emile Jacques-Dalcroze. Manual wrote graphically about the lack of organization within most of non-White outdoor life where only sporadic attempts were made to form sport controlling bodies. He lamented the demise of rugby club unions due to a lack of cooperation—a sad situation, as rugby was very popular among Colored men.44 Physical culture allowed sympathetic Whites space to intervene and organize events for Colored people along liberal and politically neutral themes to “remedy” this situation. Van Diggelen and other sympathetic Whites were present at physical culture activities in the Colored community. One such event, organized by the St. Alban’s Club, was held to celebrate VE (Victory in Europe) Day, and Piet Taljaard, a White South African weight lifting champion,45 gave a display of weight lifting and partnered with Cecil Jacobs, a popular club member. Andy Dell, another White who was known as the South African Apollo, demonstrated muscular posing while Tromp van Diggelen served as commentator at the event.46 In 1940, there were ten clubs in Cape Town operating under the auspices of the Western Province Association of Boys’ Clubs. These clubs were part of an initiative of the Cape Town City Council to “provide recreation opportunities for Colored boys who would otherwise be roaming the streets.”47 These clubs retained a connection between physical culture as a spectator event, raising funds for charity, and support for some religious agency. In 1943, for example, the Wesley Physical Culture Club staged an event where physical exercises, feats of agility, strongman stunts, and human pyramids were among the highlights in a program presented in St. Phillips Hall, Cape Town, and where the proceeds were in aid of the Moravian Charity Society.48 This approach was driven by a desire, found in states all over the world, to build new citizens who were healthy, hygienic, and moral. In South Africa, the state secretary for the National Department of Social Welfare, Georg Adolf Carl Kuschke, was reported to have said in 1940 that youth clubs were important and valuable as they were a means whereby juvenile delinquency could be decreased.49 This approach to physical culture remained intact during World War II, but new directions emerged late in the war. On August 22, 1943, when there was an expectation of a coming peace, a group of White liberals met in the old vacated General Post Office building to establish the Western Province Association of Physical Education Clubs (WPAPEC).

Physical culture in a local context 129

Post-World War II The Cold War rivalry between the Soviet Union and the United States took various forms, including competition to achieve dominance in sport.50 Gradually, physical culture participation within both power blocs became more regimented and organized. Governments realized physical culture’s political potential, and the USA and USSR became engaged in a sporting war fought on ersatz “battlefields” comprised of soccer pitches, track fields, and hockey arenas, among other venues.51 During this period a flurry of physical culture initiatives emerged in Cape Town’s Colored community. One of these initiatives was the Mr. Body Beautiful competition, held for the first time in Ottery in 1947.52 It was also called the Physical Excellence Competition, then the Display and Variety Show, and in 1951 it was named the Cavalcade of Health and Strength.53 Gradually, physical culture promoters endorsed competitive sports, which included a surge toward Olympic and international recognition. Early in 1947, Milo Pillay, a South African-born Indian weight lifter, wrote to the South African Olympic and Empire (later Commonwealth) Games Association (SAOEGA, later SAOCGA) inquiring whether non-White organizations could affiliate with the association a view toward participating in the upcoming Olympic Games. The curt response was that SAOEGA had no jurisdiction over non-White sport.54 In December of that year, M.F. Allies wrote in the Torch that a national federation will be formed “to look after the interests of all Non-European weightlifters in the Union of South Africa … to gain … Olympic recognition.”55 Pillay’s letter was written with a South African Colored schoolteacher from Port Elizabeth, Ron Eland, in mind. Eland eventually found his way to the 1948 Olympic Games by being selected to the British weight lifting team. Pillay and Eland represented that class of physical culturalists who were, to varying degrees, trained specialists in the field of physical activity and gave lectures in various parts of the country.56 They were therefore very different from those who only participated in showy displays of strength and physique.57 After World War II, Western European governments were beginning to relinquish their political control over their African dominions. The South African government, on the other hand, intensified segregation, moving toward institutionalized racism, and promoted the idea that physical culture should be used for creating some sense of order in society. Two overlapping streams of physical culture emerged in South Africa. One, under the direction of the WPAPEC, emerged to organize competitive sports programs along the lines of “high culture” (e.g., gymnastics and fencing); the other continued along the lines of the pre-World War II showmanship culture. In South Africa, competitive physical culturalists were gradually being drawn to weight lifting and bodybuilding competitions, especially since 1951 when the first South African Weightlifting and Bodybuilding Federation championship was held. The following year, the Western Province Weightlifting and Bodybuilding Association (Colored) was established and held its first championships at the Salt River

130 F. Cleophas

Railway Institute, Tromp van Diggelen being one of the judges. The element of entertainment was still visible in this event, but it was becoming more of an obstacle for the transition from physical culture to sport. The event was described as extremely boring and disorganized.58 There was an increasing emphasis on more streamlined competitions, and the Cavalcade of Health and Strength Competition, organized by the Anno Physical Culture Club (specializing in balance and agility acts), incorporated the Mr. and Miss Body Beautiful in Cape Town in 1952. Colored physical culturalists now focused their attention on gaining international recognition, especially through the Olympic movement. The increasing attention that the local Black press directed toward Olympic participation possibly added to a decreased interest in traditional physical culture. In 1952, Pillay contacted the Olympic governing bodies of the United States, Argentina, Brazil, Denmark, France, India, Pakistan, and Sweden to garner support for a “Colored Olympiad” in Port Elizabeth. According to media reports, these councils supported South African Colored sportspersons who sought representation at the 1956 Olympic Games.59 There were also opinions expressed in the press indicating that physical culture shows (e.g., amateur wrestling) were no longer financially viable. All of this culminated in Black physical culturalists organizing their activities under umbrella bodies and seeking the approval of sympathetic Whites. This carried the support of mainstream sport administrators and sponsors, and the well-known rugby administrator Danie Craven; a prominent Cape Town physical culturalist, Jean Brownlee; and Milo Pillay.60 The manufacturers of Jungle Oats porridge, a popular brand in Cape Town, donated a trophy for the Junior Mr. Body Beautiful.61 In 1956, the newly established International Table Tennis Board recognized the nonracial South African Table Tennis Board as the official representative body in South Africa.62 This was a reflection of new post-World War II trends in Black sport in Cape Town: international participation, resistance politics, and sponsorships. However, the old attitude of participation for enjoyment’s sake alone still lingered outside mainstream sport. By the 1960s, there was more than a growing interest in professional sport in the non-White community, including among Pillay’s protégés.63 In 1965, the short-lived Western Cape Wrestling Promotions, a professional organization, was established under the guidance of Richard Pieterse, Sidney G. Rule, Ron Eland, Jim Battle, and others.64 Rule and Eland had connections with the Wesley Physical Culture Club in the 1930s and 1940s, while Battle had previous ties with St. Mark’s Physical Culture Club in District Six.65 By the 1970s, physical culture was transformed into organized sport. Eland immigrated to North America in 1970 and served as a technical coach for the Canadian team at the 1976 Olympic Games and at the Commonwealth Games two years later.66

A Cape Town physical culture and play case study During the post-World War II period, the new competitive physical culturalists and the voluntary participants outside the club movement did not initially practice their physical culture in isolation from one another. Mona Cleophas (neé Small)

Physical culture in a local context 131

was such a case.67 Initially she was influenced by the work of Edgar Williams, who in turn was introduced to physical culture by Ron Eland. A feature of this chapter is the emphasis on the interconnectivity between sport, physical culture, and play as key points of interest, with an added dimension of learning. Play is a key element of childhood, and later adult engagement with physical culture during childhood typically involves some degree of learning.68 It must be noted that play is not limited to human beings alone. Therefore, to humanize the concept of play, it is useful to view it from a cultural perspective.69 This perspective is underpinned by the idea of homo ludens (people who play), as postulated by Johan Huizinga: play is part of our human existence.70 According to recent work on the nature of play, claims are made that there is a nexus between playfulness in movement, the rule-bound nature of play, and the limits of the regulation of joyfulness (i.e., playfulness).71 I approach play as an attitude, not a thing: it is playfulness at the interstices of rules and requirements. Although a definitive definition of play remains elusive, for the purposes of this chapter, it is viewed as a behavioral form having both biological and cultural dimensions that is difficult to define to the exclusion of all other behaviors, yet is distinguishable by a variety of traits. It is pleasurable, voluntary, set apart by temporal parameters, marked by a make-believe quality.72 Damla Dönmez, a writer on the philosophy of play, confirms this definition by identifying the following markers for play: autotelic, pleasurable, voluntary, and structured by rules.73 Although written rules and set game dates are absent from play activities, such activities are not without regulation, and Lesley Daiken’s Children’s Games shows how informal games in Britain were seasonal.74 Anthropologists, educators, philosophers, sociologists, and historians have all concerned themselves with the concept of play. By drawing on work carried out by scholars in these areas, one can develop an appreciation for play: an aspect of human life that is often ignored, taken for granted, or trivialized.75 Late-twentieth-century educators such as Daryl Siedentop claimed that play is not a trivial concept. It is a concept rich with psychological, sociological, and historical meaning, rich enough to provide insight into what physical culture is, what it means to people, who plays, who watches people play, and what role play occupied in culture.76 Compared to the number of works on contemporary South African sport history, works on play are scarce. One work that filled this vacuum in South Africa was the formal project “Kleinspele onder die Blanke bevolking van die SuidwesKaap” (“Small games among the White population of the southwestern Cape”). This project was inspired by work done during the mid- to late 1970s by the Flemish Folk Sport Central under the direction of Roland Renson, who found that games research in Belgium revived folk culture.77 There is a need to investigate notions of playfulness in non-White communities, and a case study of Mona Small, a Colored physical culture practitioner, could be used to explore this. Mona Small’s childhood experiences, as related to the author, stimulated her interest in physical culture during her later life.78 The importance of childhood experiences for any artistic person was stressed by the Afrikaans writer Riana

132 F. Cleophas

Scheepers and her colleague Leti Kleyn. According to them, it is the reaction of the emotional nature of a child, or the obfuscation of an experience, that has an impact on the young soul who becomes artistic later in life. Scheepers believes that all children experience life as intense, with sensitivity and wonder, but the child with artistic potential can feel intuitively that certain personal experiences are artistic, and cherish them for later use.79 The same assertions made by Kleyn and Scheepers can be applied to physical culture participation. Mona Small’s childhood was during the 1940s, a time when few attempts were made to provide children with playgrounds, and organized play was limited.80 The oldest and most important institution around which play was organized was the home. Play activities were passed down from parent to child, and in this manner children became acquainted with the play activities of their ancestors. The church played an important role in providing organized play. At Sunday school picnics and social gatherings, families came together and played.81 Sport and physical culture influences on individuals are often shaped through home and formal school experiences. Mona Small’s father, John Small, was a school principal and had a loving and playful relationship with her.82 Evidently, the same experience existed between Martina Bergman, the prominent nineteenth-century physical education specialist, and her father. According to a biography on Bergman, she was her father’s favorite. From him she learned mental companionship, and with him she developed her natural breadth of outlook and a dislike of “artificial small-talk.”83 The early family home experiences of another prominent physical education practitioner, Dorothy Ainsworth, could be described as close to ideal. Her parents were exceptional people who were not only intellectuals but also people with a fine moral sense and a clear idea of fairness. At home the children were exposed to games, books, music, and enjoyment, and the children had much freedom to express themselves. However, there was also order, discipline, and guidance.84 In a personal interview conducted on August 2, 2011 with Rachael Jonathan, who knew Mona Small as child and as a family friend, she confirmed that a welcoming and child-friendly home was also evident in the Small family. Mona Small was born on November 12, 1938, in Wellington, Cape Province, but spent her first eight years in the rural hamlet of Goree, in the village of Robertson, where her father was master of a one-man church school for Colored farmworkers. An awareness of the natural surroundings, facilitated by her father through play activities, left a lifelong impression on her. In January 1945, the Small family moved to Cape Town, where Mona’s father became principal of the Blouvlei Dutch Reformed School. Blouvlei was an area of land settled by mainly African and Colored people who “lived in very poor conditions and played on the sand dunes.”85 According to Jonathan, the games they played as children were no different from those listed by Jacobus de Jongh and Floris Van der Merwe. Although the Small family was part of the Colored middle class, Mona played with children across the class and racial divides.

Physical culture in a local context 133

A personal interview on August 20, 2010 with Leslie van Dieman, a former South Peninsula High School student-athlete, confirmed that when Mona Small attended South Peninsula High School, she participated in a range of sports (athletics, softball, and netball) offered at the institution. She was selected to represent the province in athletics, but her strict mother forbade her to travel to Kimberley. Before matriculating, Mona became ill, was hospitalized, and as a result was forced to leave high school. She next attended the Battswood Teachers’ Training School, where one of the staff members was Ron Eland. According to her own testimony, she occasionally participated in his physical culture displays. Informally, she taught a number of Cape Town girls tap dancing and gymnastics in the family garage. Like most Colored professional women of the 1960s until the 1980s, she was a schoolteacher. Being a physical education teacher, she was responsible for organizing interhouse and interschool athletics meetings, the most popular sport at Colored schools, and netball. In the fashion of Tromp van Diggelen’s wide range of cultural involvement, she took up floristry and was recognized in the press for it. On occasion she was asked to create the flower arrangements for very socially prominent guests at a hotel. When asked about it, her comments indicated a playful attitude toward this serious activity. She said she enjoyed decorating the prime minister’s table when he dined at the hotel and it gave her a thrill to make the flower arrangements in Engelbert Humperdinck’s, Vera Lynn’s, and Patti Page’s rooms (my emphasis).86 She retired from teaching in December 1993 and passed away on October 11, 2016, leaving behind for her children an archival record of a life of playfulness through physical culture.

Conclusion The aim of this chapter was to present cultural and social interpretations of issues relating to participation in physical culture by Black and Coloured South Africans through a relational narrative, including a social-historical account of physical culture in Cape Town, South Africa, and its origins and shifting forms during the twentieth century. In identifying personalities, champions, and pioneers of physical culture who worked in Cape Town’s Colored communities, I illustrated the interconnectedness between physical culture and society in a local South African historical context. In David Kirk’s view, the notion of physical culture assists social scientists to be less reliant on amorphous concepts such as society and culture.87 Understanding physical culture practices, which were forerunners of twentieth-century sport, is essential for the understanding of the concept of play as a behavioral form having both biological and cultural dimensions. As physical culture started to wane during the post-World War II period, organized sport, particularly gymnastics, weight lifting, and bodybuilding, increasingly came to the fore. This chapter confirms Kirk’s suggestion that it may be possible to provide more powerful explanations of the ways in which people access and make use of the discursive resources of physical culture by locating identities within complex and dynamic social contexts in community, school, and family.88

134 F. Cleophas

Notes 1 Francois Johannes Cleophas, “Physical Education and Physical Culture in the Coloured Community of the Western Cape, 1837–1966” (PhD diss., Stellenbosch University, 2009). 2 Lisa Hunter, Elke Emerald, and Wayne Smith, eds., preface in Pierre Bourdieu and Physical Culture (London: Routledge, 2015), xiv. 3 Floris J.G. Van der Merwe, Sportgeskiedenis: ’n Handleiding vir Suid-Afrikaanse Student (Stellenbosch, SA: FJG Publications, 1999), xi. 4 David Kirk, “Physical Culture, Physical Education and Relational Analysis,” Sport, Education and Society 4, no. 1 (1999): 63. 5 Roberta Park, “Guest Editor’s Introduction,” Journal of Sport History 18, no. 1 (1991): 5–6. 6 An example of attitudes toward others can be found in the Sun ( January 24, 1936), 4: “The influx of unwanted natives into Cape Town is a real problem … because they come into competition with the Coloured people.” 7 Kirk, “Physical Culture, Physical Education,” 63. 8 He was a self-confessed middle-class member of British society, and the son of the famous Thomas Arnold, the school principal of Rugby from 1828 until 1842. 9 Peter McIntosh, Sport in Society (London: C.A. Watts, 1963), 62. 10 Ibid. 11 Bruce Haley, The Healthy Body and Victorian Culture (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, 1978), 175. 12 Cleophas, “Physical Education and Physical Culture,” 15. 13 Van Diggelen was a White physical culturalist who worked across the racial color divide, see Tromp van Diggelen, Worthwhile Journey: The Autobiography of Tromp van Diggelen (London: William Heinemann, 1955); Robert Johnston and Derek Stuart-Findlay, The Motorist’s Paradise: Early Motoring in and around Cape Town (Cape Town: St. James, 2007), 115. South Africa’s Who’s Who in 1919 has the following entry on van Diggelen: “Tromp van Diggelen is a man to whom we are indebted for the physical culture boom and the resultant smashing of records. He is the managing director of the Tromp van Diggelen Institute of Physical Culture, with branches in Johannesburg and Pretoria. He promoted the means of introducing muscle control as a method of developing the human body. He introduced the ideas in London and in Europe in 1909, and they were adopted in nearly every part of the industrialised world.” Ken Donaldson, ed., South Africa’s Who’s Who: Social Business and Farming, 1919–1920 (Cape Town: self-published, 1919), 207. 14 Kirk, “Physical Culture, Physical Education,” 64. 15 In the context of this work, “subaltern” refers to African, Colored, and Indian communities. These were colonial terms that were extended to twentieth-century segregation practices. Collectively, these references were also used for non-White and non-European. 16 Cape Indian (July 1922): 5. 17 TEPA was a politically moderate teachers’ organization, established in July 1944 as a breakaway from the more radical Teachers’ League of South Africa (TLSA); see Cleophas, “Physical Education and Physical Culture,” 142. The TLSA members also promoted “high culture” activities but with different objectives in mind. 18 Sun (June 11, 1954): 6. 19 Mohamed Adhikari, “Let Us Live for Our Children”: The Teachers’ League of South Africa, 1913–1940 (Cape Town: Buchu Books, 1993), 167. 20 Cape Standard (May 22, 1945): 2. 21 Bernarr Macfadden, ed., Macfadden’s Encyclopedia (New York: Macfadden, 1928), 1:3. 22 Clarion (July 12, 1919): 11. 23 Cupido was a lightweight who fought with success in South America in the 1920s; see Chris Greyvenstein, The Fighters: A Pictorial History of SA Boxing from 1881 (Cape Town: Don Nelson, 1981), 415. 24 Clarion (July 12, 1919): 11. 25 Clarion (August 23, 1919): 10.

Physical culture in a local context 135

26 Brunhilde Helm, A Cape Town Directory of Social Welfare (Cape Town: University of Cape Town, 1959), 60. 27 Cape Standard (July 5, 1946): 5; George Manuel, Kampvegters (Cape Town: Nassau, 1968), 69–73. 28 Manuel, Kampvegters, 69–70. 29 Clarion (November 6, 1948), 3; Manuel, Kampvegters, 69–70; Cape Herald (1967): 4. 30 Sun (February 25, 1955): 2. 31 The standard Afrikaans dictionary defines skollie as “a member of a quarrelsome Cape Colored gang who attacks pedestrians”; see Francois F. Odendaland R.H. Gouws, eds., HAT: Verklarende handwoordeboek van die Afrikaanse taal (Johannesburg: Perskor, 1985), 986; Cape Standard (July 5, 1946): 5. 32 The prominent intellectual Baruch Hirson states on his website (“A Short History of the Non-European Unity Movement: An Insider’s View”) that the movement was launched in December 1943. It grew out of the Workers Party of South Africa, a small group of Cape Town-based Trotskyists who stressed the centrality of the land question and the demand for the vote. Unlike the broad-based African National Congress, the NonEuropean Unity Movement did not pay tribute to any religious group or church. http s://www.marxists.org/history/etol/revhist/supplem/hirson/neum.html. 33 Sun (June 29, 1934): 6. 34 Sun (June 15, 1934): 1. 35 Vivian Bickford-Smith, Nigel Worden, and Elizabeth van Heyningen, Cape Town in the Twentieth Century: An Illustrated Social History (Cape Town: David Philip, 1999), 149. 36 Richards was a Colored man who made his mark as an athlete and a physical culture instructor. He established the Bokmakierie Physical Culture Club; see Francois J. Cleophas and Floris J.G. Van der Merwe, “Reshaping a Hero: The Real Life and Times of Archibald Richards,” African Journal for Physical, Health Education, Recreation and Dance 15, no. 3 (2009): 486–7. 37 Cape Standard (April 30, 1940): 2. 38 Jean Bottaro, Pippa Visser, and Nigel Worden, In Search of History: Grade 11 Learner’s Book (Cape Town: Oxford University Press, 2012), 135. 39 Sun (April 24, 1936): 7. 40 Sun (July 10, 1936): 9. 41 James Riordan, Sport in Soviet Society: Development of Sport and Physical Education in Russia and the USSR (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1977), 167. 42 Sun (August 20, 1937): 8. 43 John Springhall, Youth, Empire and Society: British Youth Movements, 1883–1940 (London: Croom Helm, 1977), 16. 44 Cape Standard (July 13, 1936): 6. 45 Taljaard represented South Africa, alongside Issy Bloomberg, in the 1948 Olympic Games. Mark Leach and Gary Wilkins, Olympic Dream: The South African Connection (London: Penguin, 1992), 143. 46 Cape Standard (May 15, 1945): 11. 47 Sun (March 8, 1940): 5. 48 Cape Standard (September 28, 1943): 5. 49 Cape Standard (May 14, 1940): 7. 50 Bottaro, Visser, and Worden, In Search of History, 6. 51 Bart Buckel, “Nationalism, Mass Politics, and Sport: Cold War Case Studies at Seven Degrees” (Master’s diss., Monterey, CA: Naval Postgraduate School, 2008), 7. 52 Cape Standard (September 16, 1947): 7. 53 Sun (October 27, 1950): 8; Sun (November 9, 1951): 4. 54 South African Olympic and British Empire Games Association, Minutes of the Executive Committee of the South African Olympic and British Empire Games Association, Carlton Hotel, Johannesburg ( January 13, 1947): 3. 55 Torch (December 1, 1947): 7. 56 Cape Standard (April 30, 1940): 4. 57 Kirk, “Physical Culture, Physical Education,” 65.

136 F. Cleophas

58 59 60 61 62 63

64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78

79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88

Sun (December 19, 1952): 5. Sun (November 14, 1952): 2. Sun (October 24, 1952): 8. Sun (December 5, 1952): 4. Torch (April 24, 1956): 5. The first professional soccer club in Cape Town was formed in 1960, and it happened to be nonwhite. See Bonita Bennett, Chrischené Julius, and Crain Soudien, eds., Fields of Play: Football, Memories and Forced Removals in Cape Town (Cape Town: District Six Museum and Basler Afrika Bibliographien, 2010), 114–19. Cape Herald (April 17, 1965): 12; Cape Herald (May 29, 1965): 10. Cleophas, “Physical Education and Physical Culture,” 209–10, 212–14, 216–18, 236. Eastern Province Herald (February 19, 1990). Mona Sippora Small (b. November 12, 1938; d. October 11, 2016) married Ronald Frans Cleophas (b. July 1, 1938; d. December 26, 2012) on November 14, 1966. In the text, she is referred to as Small before her marriage and Cleophas after her marriage. Kirk, “Physical Culture, Physical Education,” 69. Johan Huizinga, Over de grenzen van spel en ernst in de cultuur (Haarlem, NL: H.D. Tjeenk, 1933), 5. Imara Felkers, Malcolm Maclean, and Ellen Mulder, “Homo Ludens in the Twenty-first Century,” in Philosophical Perspectives on Play, ed. Malcolm Maclean, Wendy Russel, and Emily Ryall (London: Routledge, 2016), 124. Ibid. Kendall Blanchard, The Anthropology of Sport: An Introduction, rev. ed. (London: Bergin and Garvey, 1995), 42. Damla Dönmez, “The Paradox of Rules and Freedom: Art and Life in the Simile of Play,” in Philosophical Perspectives on Play, ed. Malcolm Maclean, Wendy Russel, and Emily Ryall (London: Routledge, 2016), 166. Lesley Daiken, Children’s Games throughout the Year (London: B.T. Batsford, 1949), vii. Mabel Reaney, The Place of Play in Education (London: Methuen, 1927), 6. Daryl Siedentop, Introduction to Physical Education, Fitness, and Sport (Mountainview, CA: Mayfield, 1990), 94. Jacobus de Jongh and Floris Van der Merwe, “’n Dokumentering van die aard, historiese oorsprong, ontwikkeling en verspreiding van die verskillende kleinspele onder die blanke bevolking van die Suidwes-Kaap” (unpublished report, Stellenbosch University, 1984), ii. The Small family’s experiences formed the source material for the published drama The Orange Earth by Adam Small, an acclaimed Afrikaans poet and dramatist. This drama, a semiautobiographical account of Small, centers around blatant racism that the author and his family experienced from White farmers during 1936 and 1943. Adam Small, The Orange Earth. A Drama (Cape Town: Tafelberg, 2013). Free translation from Deborah Steinmair, “Eietydse ‘Herinnering se wei’ saamgestel,” https://www.netwerk24.com/Vermaak/Eietydse-Herinnering-se-wei-saam gestel-20130405. Sun (June 26, 1936): 1. Free translation from Levina C. Arnold, “Opelug-ontspanningsaktiwiteite vir blanke kinders in Kaapland” (Master’s diss., University of Stellenbosch, 1949), 7. Small, Orange Earth, 42. Jonathan May, Madame Bergman-Österberg: Pioneer of Physical Education and Games for Girls and Women (London: George G. Harrap, 1969), 4. Hazel C. Peterson, Dorothy S. Ainsworth: Her Life, Professional Career and Contribution to Physical Education (Idaho: University of Idaho Press, 1975), 12. Ammaarah Kamish, “Coloured and Black Identities of Residents Forcibly Removed from Blouvlei,” South African Historical Journal 60, no. 2 (2008): 248. Cape Herald (March 28, 1970): 3. Kirk, “Physical Culture, Physical Education,” 71. Ibid.

9 “VISIONARY COURTYARD PLAYERS” The Robben Island Rugby Board and the transition to postapartheid South Africa, ca. 1972–1992 Hendrik Snyders

Introduction For over three centuries, Robben Island, an offshore island within sight of the city of Cape Town, was used by successive governments (both colonial and postcolonial) as a penal settlement, isolation center, and for quarantine purposes.1 Its detention centers, whether the prison, leper asylum, or animal stockade, served to safeguard the social and economic health of the surrounding society. From the outset, Robben Island institutions followed a harsh treatment regime that required individuals to be “detained like criminals and banished from all comforts.”2 Their role unsurprisingly involved disciplining the individual mind and body in the hope of producing a compliant and productive citizen. During the apartheid years (1948–94), Robben Island was the primary place of detention for antiapartheid activists engaged in activities aimed at overthrowing the minority-ruled apartheid state. The government used the island prison as a bulwark against a political revolution hosting political prisoners of all ideological persuasions. Inmates with membership in the African National Congress (ANC) far outnumbered the rest, such as those belonging to the Pan-Africanist Congress, National Liberation Front, and Black Consciousness Movement. As a critical part of the “efficient, productive, cooperative and administrative operation of power,” the institution fashioned an incarceration regime aimed at breaking the individual spirit and the unity of those who desired regime change.3 In its organization, it therefore displayed the classical pattern of a segmented and immobile coercive space targeting the individuality of every inmate.4 It is within this context that the Island Rugby Board (IRB) was formed. Although primarily meant as an additional recreation offering, it became a testing ground for new forms of governance informed by the game’s peculiar history in South Africa. Rugby, one of the key cultural institutions of apartheid and “a powerful, if informal, disseminator of

138 H. Snyders

nationalist sentiment and a source of identification with the volk at large,” according to Albert Grundlingh, was close to the heart of Afrikaners, the main beneficiaries of the apartheid system.5 It played a critical role in South Africa’s transition from apartheid to democracy. To understand the nexus between rugby, apartheid, and Robben Island prison and to make sense of developments within the penal institution, an overview of rugby and its place in South African society and its linkage with the struggle for political freedom is required. Political biographies and autobiographies dominate the growing body of literature about Robben Island. The prison narratives of Indres Naidoo, Sedick Isaacs, and Dikgang Moseneke specifically relate how sport and recreation were used to lead a process of collective “resignification” (i.e., a “positive act of remaking and reconstructing the dominant world”). The suggestion that these activities carried deeper meaning was, however, totally overlooked by Fred Khumalo, Paddy Harper, and Gugu Kunene, who viewed them as providers of opportunities for “banter, pastimes and boyish tricks.”6 Robben Island as a space for collective political “resignification,” where new visions of society were formulated and practiced, directly challenges John Carlin’s individualistic portrayal of Nelson Mandela as a lone crusader who used rugby and his personality to unify South Africa.7 Mandela’s actions, arguably, were also shaped by the insights and guidance of fellow prisoners who were instrumental in positioning rugby at the forefront of the political negotiations. This view of Robben Island further challenges Chuck Korr and Marvin Close’s suggestion of the pre-eminence of football (soccer) in the making of the “new” South Africa.8

Race, rugby, and the struggle for equality The first recorded game of any form of football in South Africa took place in Port Elizabeth during the mid-nineteenth century.9 Because of growing interest among the white population in the Cape Colony and the South African Republic (Transvaal), a coordinating structure, the South African Rugby Football Board, was formed in 1889. Subsequently, this quintessentially English game was spread all over the country by soldiers, colonial administrators, and various others who used it as a tool to inculcate sportsmanship, gentlemanly conduct, and fair-mindedness. Over time, it also became the national game of white South Africa and the “flag bearer of Afrikaner nationalism in the international arena.”10The black colonial elite, who were attracted to the game, supported the idea that “good sport, manliness and love of ‘fair play’ should be promoted amongst all classes of society.”11 They regarded the demonstration of prowess, fair play, and sportsmanship as sufficient indicators of athletes’ “fitness to be accepted as full citizens.”12 Some of the colonial media, however, suggested that “the races are best socially apart, each good in their own way, but a terribly bad mixture.”13 Restricted by racism, black rugby clubs represented by four regional associations— based in Cape Town, Kimberley, Port Elizabeth, and Johannesburg—established the South African Colored Rugby Football Board (SACRFB) in 1897. United by rejection of racism, the SACRFB constitutionally embedded equality and nondiscrimination in

The Robben Island Rugby Board 139

all its affairs.14 It further adopted English rugby rules, arguably to place its play on a higher moral plane, and to signal an intention to be a forward-looking, integrationist, and universally respected organization. South Africa therefore entered the twentieth century with two parallel, segregated, and opposing rugby traditions, both of which lasted until the late 1900s. Black rugby administrators were pioneers in the fight for equal rights in South Africa. Daniel Lenders (SACRFB president), for example, accompanied a black political delegation in his capacity as vice president of the African Political Organization (later the African People’s Organization), which tried to persuade the British Parliament in 1909 not to insert a color bar in the South Africa Act, which united the former British colonies in the aftermath of the South African War.15 Beyond his political responsibilities, Lenders led the SACRFB’s first effort to send an all-black team overseas in the period before World War I. Such tours and competition, suggested Dyreson, not only served as an arena to “display national prowess,” but also afforded their participants an opportunity to “tell stories about themselves to their fellow citizens and global audiences.”16 Financial constraints; disinterest on the part of the white rugby fraternity in England, Australia, and New Zealand; and resistance from the white South Africa Rugby Football Board, however, sabotaged these efforts.17 Following its electoral victory in 1948, the National Party promulgated various laws to institutionalize segregation (“apartheid”). Chief among these were the Population Registration Act (Act 30 of 1950), Prohibition of Mixed Marriages Act (Act 55 of 1949), Group Areas Act (Act 41 of 1951), Reservation of Separate Amenities Act (Act 49 of 1953), and the Suppression of Communism Act (Act 44 of 1950). The anticommunism act criminalized any campaign to bring about political change and substantially decreased the operating space for all black activist organizations. Under apartheid, sport officially became a segregated affair; the right to represent South Africa internationally was reserved for white athletes. In response, black sports administrators established the Coordinating Committee for International Recognition (CCIR) in 1955. The CCIR demanded both nonracial sport and the right to international participation. Concomitantly, the Congress Alliance, a body representative of all the major antiapartheid political organizations—including the ANC, South African Indian Congress, South African Colored People’s Congress, and the white Congress of Democrats—adopted the Freedom Charter that outlined their vision for a democratic South Africa.18 From a sporting perspective, the charter explicitly called for the abolishment of the color bar in cultural life, sport, and education.19 As an emancipatory document, it fully politicized sport and irreversibly linked the struggle for nonracial and equal sporting opportunity to political liberation.20 The white-minority government responded to these challenges by banning and arresting its political opponents. It also refused to issue travel documents to the fledgling black sports movement and reserved international travel to those willing to compete under the auspices of recognized white sports bodies.21 Under this dispensation, a number of tour attempts by the various black rugby control bodies,

140 H. Snyders

including the South African Bantu Rugby Football Board (SABRFB, established in 1935), failed before they even started.22 The Native Laws Amendment Act (Act 54 of 1952), which regulated racial segregation of civic organizations, further curbed fraternization between the different black ethnic groups and prevented the immediate establishment of a united front against apartheid. Following fierce government repression, the CCIR succumbed to “timidity and fear” and disappeared from the scene. It thus forced black sport administrators to reassess.23 In January 1959, eight national sporting organizations (with the exception of rugby) formed the South African Sports Association (SASA) to advance the struggle. Claiming to represent an estimated 70,000 black athletes, SASA, led by Dennis Brutus, attempted to negotiate with its white counterparts in the hope of effecting change. It further attempted to persuade corporate sponsors to boycott racial sport and to make nonracialism a precondition for financial support.24 Faced with white intransigence, SASA resorted to direct lobbying of the various international sports bodies.25 Simultaneously, it called for black unity, nonracialism, and the rejection of racially segregated contests. The first to start the process of deracializing under the influence of an emergent and “assertive nationalism stressing African self-determination” was SABRFB, a rugby body that catered to players of ethnic African origins. Beyond renaming itself the South African African Rugby Football Board (SAARFB) after dropping the racially offensive term “Bantu” from its name, the organization, led by Louis Mtshizana, returned its premier trophy, the Native Recruiting Corporation Grand Challenge Cup, to its donor, the Chamber of Mines. The Chamber of Mines was not only the chief employer of black labor, but, according to its critics, was also an exploitative racist corporation.26 Mtshizana also distanced the SAARFB from the celebration of the founding of the Republic of South Africa in 1961, which he rejected as a continuation of colonialism. Because of his activities, Mtshizana, a member of the Non-European Unity Movement and an antiapartheid lawyer, was banned in 1963 and thereafter sentenced to a term of imprisonment on Robben Island allegedly for the “illegal” possession of a firearm and for attempting to leave the country illegally. The same fate befell Brutus, the president of SASA (which during this period evolved into the South African Non-racial Olympic Committee, SANROC), for his role in South Africa’s expulsion from the Olympic Games. When Mtshizana and Brutus were sent as inmates to Robben Island, their vision and politics of nonracial sport entered the coercive space of the penal institution. By the end of the 1960s, due to South Africa’s refusal to end apartheid, more doors to international competition started to close. Ejection from the International Olympic Committee was soon followed by suspension from the International Cricket Conference and Fédération Internationale de Football Association. Rugby, however, continued to participate in reciprocal tours—to Europe, New Zealand, and Australia—and maintained its membership on the International Rugby Board. By 1971, following a protest-ridden six-week tour of Australia, contact between the two countries was terminated. These developments were the direct result of

The Robben Island Rugby Board 141

the collective struggles of the global antiapartheid movement, local pressure groups, and those banished to Robben Island. The latter group, despite constant abuse, assault, and denial of their basic human rights, continued to resist the attempts by the representatives of the apartheid state to destroy them physically and mentally.

Recreation and the Robben Island prison regime Despite South Africa being a signatory to the Geneva Conventions since 1952, the Robben Island prison regime was a repressive and violent one. Confronted by the unprecedented mass arrests of black political prisoners, the prison authorities set out to effect retribution against those convicted.27 For maximum effect, the authorities also attacked the individuality and unity of the inmates and attempted to exploit their ideological and racial differences. They further targeted family relationships and aimed to remove the incarcerated from public memory. Contacts with family and the outside world, both in correspondence and in person, were limited to the absolute minimum through extreme censorship, the withholding of letters, or the destruction of personal correspondence. Prisoner Jama Matakata noted that it created a situation where it was virtually impossible to either clear up misunderstandings or resolve family disputes that involved such correspondence.28 This deprivation was also extended into the realms of clothing and nutrition. Whereas “Cape Coloreds” and Indians received a quarter loaf of bread each day as well as long trousers, jerseys, shoes, and socks, African prisoners received sandals, short pants, and a shirt. Africans further received one slice of bread three times per week after initially having received nothing. Christo Brand, one of Nelson Mandela’s warders, noted in this regard: “They were to be physically and mentally broken as thoroughly as the limestone they were forced to hack in the quarry.”29 Political discipline, however, remained high and prevented major divisions among inmates. Strenuous manual labor formed an important part of the prison regime’s attempt to ensure the physical subjugation of inmates. Inmates were forced to work with rusty wheelbarrows, sledgehammers, picks, shovels, and iron staves. Beyond roadwork, building construction, and quarrying, prisoners had to break stones in the courtyard. The latter activity was a meaningless and soul-destroying activity aimed at creating “eventless-time.”30 As reward for this sweaty and backbreaking labor, inmates were restricted to two showers per week, three days apart. Transgressions, both real and imagined, of any rule were punished by a denial of meals, severe dietary restriction (rice and water), corporal punishment, and long periods of solitary isolation, sometimes for up to ninety days.31 In addition, physical assaults, strip-searches, invasive body-cavity searches, and routine humiliation were the norm. The attack on both body and mind was further pursued through the denial of all forms of recreation or sport. The white officer corps primarily drove this “dehumanization of leisure.”32 Seemingly, white staff who appeared to have been Nationalist Party supporters—proapartheid and/or, at worst, neo-Nazi—resented their being assigned to Robben Island.33 Posting or transfer to Robben Island, according to some accounts, was regarded by some personnel as a form of punishment, and the island facility as a

142 H. Snyders

“prison for prison warders.” Alcohol abuse, infidelity, interpersonal conflict, groups, and cliques were also common.34 The ideal wardens under these circumstances, suggested Brand, were those who were apolitical and largely ignorant of South African history.35 Given the political objectives behind imprisonment on Robben Island, by 1963 the prison staff became all-white, older, more reactionary, racist, and violent.36 This was to ensure full compliance with the regulations and to prevent the political indoctrination of staff. Furthermore, the authorities attempted to deny members of the parliamentary opposition and the International Red Cross visits to the island with a view to denying them their right to exercise political and humanitarian oversight. Because of threats to expose maladministration and abuse to the media, a number of irregular visits, which were always subjected to the whims of successive ministers of justice, were granted.37 This gave prison officials unfettered control over the Robben Island prison during the period 1961–67. Noting the inherent dangers of an Afrikanerization of the prison, prisoners demanded both a nonracial prison administration and a more “creative” incarceration environment in accordance with existing international protocols.38 Inevitably, the prison became an additional site of struggle and an alternative stage for the redelineation, rehearsal, and even concretizing of the vision of a democratic South Africa.39 Fighting for their physical and psychological survival, prisoners, drawing on their “positive psychological capital,” disrupted the institutional status quo.40 Applying a dual strategy, they insisted on the proper application of existing prison regulations, especially the allowance to those in solitary confinement of their right to exercise. Furthermore, without waiting for official permission, political prisoners started to improve the psychological climate in the prison by creating a “surrogate world” more conducive to their mental health.41 Key to this improvement was the manufacturing, from throwaway materials, of a variety of indoor games such as chess, Ludo, and draughts. This defiant act of instituting alternative activities within the prison regime forced the authorities to clamp down and confiscate the illegal games. Determined not to lose the initiative, inmates, together with their external support network in both the International Red Cross and the antiapartheid solidarity network, resisted to force minor but far-reaching changes to the conditions of incarceration.42 In the face of collective pressure, the prison authorities cynically instituted a diluted form of exercise involving the pulling of a heavy roller.43 This galvanized new forms of resistance involving work stoppages, slowdowns, and other more subtle forms of noncompliance. The authorities, however, refused to make fundamental concessions other than to permit a football donated by the International Red Cross into the institution. This small change had the unintended consequence of giving rise to a new inmate initiative in the form of an inter-cell competition between identifiable teams coordinated by an informal committee along political party lines.44 Given its subversive potential, the authorities banned this body, and thus provoked a four-year-long struggle (1966–70) involving petitions, a hunger strike, and international campaigns by the external solidarity network.

The Robben Island Rugby Board 143

The coordinated action of multiple actors and their extended networks further disrupted the institutional status quo.45 To avoid international repercussions, the prison authorities were forced to make further concessions. As a result, the Prisoners Recreation Committee came into being in September 1967. This was followed by the birth of the Makana Football Association, a substructure tasked with organizing football (soccer) matches between inmate teams. At its prime the Makana Football Association boasted 26 teams divided into three divisions, and hosted an official competition. This set an important precedent and mediated the birth of a rugby board four years later.

Establishment and functioning of the Island Rugby Board The Robben Island Rugby Board, also known as the Island Rugby Board (IRB), was established on January 30, 1972, with Steve Tshwete, a self-proclaimed “ruggerite,” as its founding president.46 The use of the acronym IRB as opposed to RIRB (for Robben Island Rugby Board) by the islanders is interesting and suggestive of a new vision of society. This fact escaped both Sedick Isaacs, the nonplaying IRB secretary, and the soccer-oriented Dikgang Moseneke.47 Tshwete played his rugby under the SAARB and was acquainted with both the long struggle of black rugby players for equal opportunity and the role of the International Rugby Board (also IRB) in the global management of the sport. He was otherwise also acquainted with apartheid rugby’s long-standing relationship with the world body. The prison IRB’s name and acronym choice therefore seems to be a deliberate act aimed at linking Robben Island, the freedom struggle, and the SACRFB’s campaign for international recognition.48 The act of naming, according to Nauright, extends beyond mere social and “cultural mimicking” and forms part of a complex and “elaborate process of proving respectability” and the pursuit of social advancement.49 The choice of the islanders was therefore a deliberate one that was closely linked with the sport’s and the black community’s present and past struggles. The IRB from the outset conducted its affairs based on a written constitution that made provisions for affiliation by properly constituted clubs. It also set specific rules and regulations, provided for decision-making structures and procedures, and laid down a framework for the election of executive committees and trustees, and the establishment of a referees’ society. In addition, the body operated on a system of formally mandated delegates to meetings. If a club was desirous of nominating representatives to serve on the executive committees, it had to make written nominations to the annual general meeting. The IRB further kept formal written minutes and other records (narrative and statistical), and received and debated organizational reports. It also kept financial records and maintained a system of approvals for expenditure. At the most basic level, and consistent with established practices outside of the prison, clubs had to register official colors and their playing uniforms.

144 H. Snyders

These activities and structures taught inmates new skills and refined and strengthened existing capabilities, to the benefit of what was essentially a fragile though politically knowledgeable community.50 Furthermore, its detailed operations and guardianship of the rules of the game, enforcement of respect for the organizational structures and spectating, and consensus-seeking decision making mirrored external societal structures.51 These practices and associated symbolism further permeated the substructures of the Prisoners Recreation Committee, such as the Robben Island Amateur Athletics Association, which used the five Olympic rings as its designated symbol at a time when the white South African National Olympic Committee was under expulsion from the international body. The detailed operations of the IRB and its sister bodies, according to Lisa Buntman, suggested that these activities were part of a process to build a new polity and a nascent parliament within prison.52 Although the existence of a 13-player rugby league, administered by the Rugby League International Federation, was known across the racial rugby divide, the Robben Island choice was a specific one.53 The IRB and its affiliates preferred 15 players per side and played the game in accordance with the rules promulgated by the world body. This choice infused all of their activities from formal competitions to rules and operating procedures. Affiliated clubs also competed for both a League Trophy and a Knockout Shield, which was presented at an official annual awards ceremony. In addition, the clubs played a varied number of ad hoc games as well as farewell games and special challenge matches. During its lifetime, the IRB boasted a significant number of clubs. Among those that formed a unique and colorful rugby community were clubs such as iXhalanga (“Vultures”); Ikwezi (“Morning Star”); Iqala (“Beginning”); Inkonyane (“Calves”); Makana Football Association XV; AbaThakathi XV (“The Witches”); Izanuse XV (“Healers”); Abagodukayo XV (“Those Going Home”); Abashiyekayo XV (“Those Remaining Behind”) and Pula XV (“Rain”). These names contained embedded meanings, the significance of which seemingly eluded prison officials. This apparently was also the case with a small number of clubs that sported foreign or ambiguous militaristic names, such as Arsenal RFC that referred either to the renowned British football club by the same name or, potentially, to the armed struggle against apartheid. The naming of one club as Kiwis RFC offered similarly interesting possibilities. On the one hand, the name choice could have referred to the attempt by inmates to match the rugby prowess of New Zealand, South Africa’s closest rugby rival, or, alternatively, identification with the indigenous Maoris, who until 1970 were excluded from all Kiwi national teams that came to tour.54 From the late 1940s onward, a significant number of black South Africans strongly identified with and supported the New Zealand visitors as opposed to their own national team. The names of the remaining clubs, such as Lions, Jackals, Wolves, Sparrows, Flyers, and Veterans, mostly contained implicit references to bravery, courage, speed, strategic maneuvering, or cunning—all characteristics required for the successful waging of an armed struggle.

The Robben Island Rugby Board 145

With the release of Tshwete in March 1978, Mluleki George, a former president of the Border Rugby Union in the Eastern Cape, took over and continued the work of his predecessor. When some prison regulations were relaxed during the 1980s, inmates gained access to newspapers and radio, and thus were able to follow and draw inspiration from the progress of the international sports boycott.

Fashioning the postapartheid rugby dispensation Tshwete’s release coincided with the start of the formal operations of the South African Rugby Board (SARB), a multiracial federal body established by the white South African African Rugby Football Board, the all-Colored South African Rugby Football Federation, and the blacks-only South African Rugby Association (formerly the South African Rugby Football Board). This initiative aimed to facilitate South Africa’s full return to international rugby competition and to counter the international boycott campaign. The South African Rugby Union (SARU), SARB’s ideological opponent, rejected this unity as one of convenience and not aimed at the destruction of apartheid. It further denounced the initiative for its failure to effect fundamental change and for its toleration of racialism.55 This partial unification, however, had the potential to undermine the international sports boycott. In the wake of these developments, the South African Council on Sport (SACOS)—established in 1973 to replace the exiled South African Non-Racial Olympic Committee—intensified its campaign against racially segregated sport. With the aid of SANROC and the international Anti-Apartheid Movement, SACOS strongly agitated for the further isolation of apartheid sport. In addition, SARU started to articulate its vision of a just nonracial and democratic society more forcefully, and formally declared its commitment to aid in the destruction of apartheid and the promotion of nonracial rugby in a postapartheid society.56 From 1981, and following the protest-afflicted South African rugby tour of New Zealand, the global antiapartheid movement—involving among others Halt All Racist Tours (HART), the Anti-Apartheid Movement, and the United Nations Special Committee against Apartheid (UNSCAP)—intensified its campaigns. As a result, New Zealand canceled the scheduled visit to South Africa of its national team for 1985, followed by Wales and France in the wake of a SANROC request to disassociate from race-based rugby.57 HART also implored rugby-playing nations to refrain from “climbing in the last ditch alongside Danie Craven’s [President of the] racist South African Rugby Board” and to stop publicly defending their cause in defiance of world sports opinion.58 This was echoed by the London Anti-Apartheid Movement, which advocated the full implementation of the Gleneagles Agreement aimed at South Africa’s final isolation.59 UNSCAP, in turn, called for practical steps to support the victims of apartheid while countering all attempts to break the boycott.60 Confronted by total isolation, SARB realized that a political solution was needed. This started four years of negotiation involving the banned ANC and diverse elements within white society. Into this breach stepped the exiled Steve

146 H. Snyders

Tshwete, first president of the IRB, to reconnect not only his former organization but also the sport as a whole with the unfolding political landscape. The initiative of white rugby associations to use politics to find a way out of their dilemma was informed by the earlier effort between the ANC and a group of white South African opinion formers that took place in Dakar, Senegal during July 1987. On that occasion, a trio of sportsmen—Frederik Van Zyl Slabbert, Tommy Bedford, and André Odendaal—suggested the use of sport as a mechanism to facilitate political change.61 Although the ANC was receptive to the idea, the apartheid government summarily rejected it. The international sports boycott, however, forced the rugby fraternity to take the matter into their own hands. Aided by Bedford, Louis Luyt embarked on a series of secret meetings with the ANC, on behalf of SARB, in various European cities during 1988. These meetings were in direct conflict with official government policy and were roundly condemned as treasonous by elements within the Afrikaner establishment. Undeterred, SARB persisted and secured an engagement with its rival, SARU, in October in Harare, Zimbabwe, thanks to the ANC.62 SARU, in turn, mandated Ebrahim Patel and Ismail Jakoet to represent it, while the ANC was represented by Thabo Mbeki, Barbara Masekela, Steve Tshwete, and Alfred Nzo, who chaired the proceedings. At the end of the two-day session, the parties issued a set of principles and a statement of intent committing them to work toward the establishment of a single, nonracial national rugby body. The commitment toward nonracial unity generated its own problems—a “firestorm,” according to Luyt.63 With the exception of two rural unions, the majority of SARB affiliates endorsed the decision and mandated Danie Craven to “vigorously” pursue unity, and to “steadfastly follow the integration path.” The opposition, however, lambasted the negotiators for their association with the ANC, especially given the latter’s commitment to the armed struggle. This objection notwithstanding, SARB resolved to forfeit participation in the scheduled 1991 Rugby World Cup in order to advance unification.64 Opposition in the ranks of the nonracial sporting fraternity under the umbrella of SACOS was more severe. The South African Hockey Board, one of the fiercest critics of the statement of intent, accused SARU of unprincipled behavior and of giving credibility to the racist sports fraternity.65 Similarly, SACOS referred to the ANC-mediated process as predetermined and “tantamount to blackmail.”66 It therefore prohibited its affiliates, SARU included, from participating in unity talks with their white counterparts at a time when SARU was yet to take a formal decision about unification as per the Harare meeting.67 The rise in the political temperature and the concomitant reaction from SACOS had everything to do with the emergence of the National Sports Congress, a new but parallel organization as SACOS, established in November 1988. A key player in this new body, whose primary objective was to build a mass-based sports movement closely aligned with the Mass Democratic Movement, was Mluleki George, the second president of the IRB.68 Despite the wish of the National Sports Congress for a cordial and complementary relationship with SACOS, the

The Robben Island Rugby Board 147

latter saw the new body as a direct threat. Furthermore, SACOS regarded the presence of the Congress, staffed by high-profile ANC personalities, as divisive.69 Faced with this situation, it decided to engage the banned ANC directly. In the face of this growing unhappiness, and with due consideration to the political objectives behind the unity initiative and its potential to buy goodwill among the white population, the ANC took charge of the process. While members of SARU were still debating unity, the ANC representative in London formally communicated the decision to unify to the International Rugby Board and SANROC in order to prevent any opportunistic undermining of the process.70 The ANC also declared its unambiguous support for the National Sports Congress. Following the unbanning of the banned political organizations and the release of political prisoners in 1990, the ANC formally congratulated SARU for its pioneering decision to unify with its white counterpart.71 This announcement further angered elements within SACOS who were in no position to stop the pace set by the political process. In the face of these fast-moving developments, at its annual general meeting in March 1990 SARB resolved to engage fully with the unfolding political and sporting processes and to contribute toward the building of a new South Africa. To this end, SARB solicited advice from the Ministry of Sport and National Education, which offered assistance but also implored administrators not to sacrifice long-term principles for short-term gains (e.g., tours).72 SARU, in turn, took its cue from its political principals, the ANC, and formally aligned with the National Sports Congress in order to render the unity process irreversible. Given the complexities of race and the long history of apartheid, the unity talks soon deadlocked. Following an impasse around a range of substantive issues, SARU requested political intervention from Mandela and Tshwete in September 1991. The duo, in addition to reiterating the importance of sport for the transition process, encouraged the leadership to strive toward the achievement of “a true and realistic unity” with due consideration to the “positive effects such a unity could have on the socio-political life of the country.” The same point was re-emphasized at the subsequent meeting with rival SARB a month later.73 After intervening, Mandela handed the facilitator’s chair to Tshwete, who stayed on until January 1992. Mandela, however, remained in contact until the coordinating committee’s last meeting and the subsequent return of the process to the rugby administrators at the start of the new year. On March 20, 1992, the new South African Rugby Football Union was established, ending nearly a century of racism and discrimination in the sport. Given the challenges associated with building a new organization, the merging parties, SARB and SARU, embarked on a two-year transitional period. During the first democratic elections of the South African Rugby Football Union in March 1994, Mluleki George, Tshwete’s successor as IRB chairperson, was elected as the new senior deputy president of the unified body as an understudy to Louis Luyt. Both committed to tackle the twin challenge of developing the game to the benefit of all and creating a new generation of rugby heroes. In April, following South Africa’s first nonracial and democratic national elections, Tshwete became the Minister of Sport and Recreation in Nelson Mandela’s cabinet to finally embed the contribution of the IRB into South African sporting history.

148 H. Snyders

Conclusion For nearly a century, rugby players, administrators, and their organizations—ranging from the first black control board, the South African Colored Rugby Football Board (1897) to the Robben Island Rugby Board (1972)—were on the front line of the fight against racial inequality in society. In the process, they faced assault, banning, arrests, exile, and, on occasion, even death for their convictions. Nonetheless, they soldiered on and made common cause with like-minded individuals, groups, and organizations globally in their pursuit of a free and democratic South Africa. The introduction of apartheid, and the criminalization of protest and demands for change through the Suppression of Communism Act and other legislation, represent a particularly difficult period for rugby-playing blacks in South Africa. Not only were die-hard activists sentenced to long-term imprisonment in the prison of Robben Island, but the apartheid regime also exacted revenge on these men through an institutional regime aimed at their physical and mental destruction. Through deliberate mobilization of their psychological resources and agency, together with an external solidarity network and collective actions, including work stoppages, petitions, and hunger strikes, the incarcerated disrupted the institutional status quo and then began building an alternative social reality through a host of unofficial activities to ensure their long-term survival. Moreover, they used their experiences within this coercive space to refine their beliefs while experimenting with new and morally superior forms of accountable and democratic governance consistent with their views about an ideal postapartheid society. The establishment of the IRB, a nascent postapartheid prototype, allowed rugby-loving inmates to reconnect their present with their past and to advance their own ideas about the operation and organizational culture of a future postapartheid rugby dispensation. Acting as both a control body and a custodian of the game’s international and universally accepted rules and values far from its spiritual homeland, the IRB followed a consensus-seeking approach to decision making and mastered the art of reconciling divergent interests and ideological viewpoints. This inadvertently prepared the body’s members and officials for a critical role in the period following their release and reintegration into a society in transition. In this way, the IRB cemented its place in the history of South Africa’s liberation.

Notes 1 Harriet Deacon, ed., The Island: A History of Robben Island 1488–1990 (Cape Town: Mayibuye Books and David Philip, 1996), 2. 2 Wanganui (New Zealand) Herald (May 23, 1904). 3 C.L. Cole, Michael D. Giardina, and David L. Andrews, “Michel Foucault: Studies of Power and Sport,” in Sport and Modern Social Theorists, ed. Richard Giulianotti (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004), 210. 4 See, for example, Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison (New York: Vintage Books, 1995), 195; and Crain Soudien, “Nelson Mandela, Robben Island and the Imagination of a New South Africa,” Journal of Southern African Studies 41, no. 2 (2015): 359.

The Robben Island Rugby Board 149

5 Albert M. Grundlingh, André Odendaal, and Burridge Spies, eds., Beyond the Tryline: Rugby and South African Society (Johannesburg: Ravan Press, 1995), 119. 6 See Fran Lisa Buntman, Robben Island and Prisoner Resistance to Apartheid (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003); and Fred Khumalo, Paddy Harper, and Gugu Kunene, The Lighter Side of Life on Robben Island: Banter, Pastimes and Boyish Tricks (Houghton, SA: Makana Investment Corporation, 2012). Indres Naidoo, Island in Chains: Prisoner 885/63: Ten Years on Robben Island (Sandton, SA: Penguin, 2000); Sedick Isaacs, Surviving in the Apartheid Prison: Flashbacks of an Earlier Life (Cape Town: XLibris 2010); and Dikgang Moseneke, My Own Liberator: A Memoir (Johannesburg: Picador Africa, 2016). See also Fran Buntman, “How Best to Resist,” in The Island: A History of Robben Island 1488–1990, ed. Harriet Deacon (Cape Town: Mayibuye Books and David Philip, 1996), 164. 7 John Carlin, Invictus: Nelson Mandela and the Game that Made a Nation (London: Atlantic Books, 2009). 8 Chuck Corr and Marvin Close, More than Just a Game: Soccer vs. Apartheid (London: Collins, 2008). 9 Lloyd B. Hill, “Reflections on the 1862 Football Match in Port Elizabeth,” South African Journal for Research in Sport, Physical Education and Recreation 33, no. 1 (2011): 81–98. 10 Albert Grundlingh, “Playing for Power: Rugby, Afrikaner Nationalism and Masculinity in South Africa,” in Beyond the Try-line, ed. Albert M. Grundlingh, André Odendaal, and Burridge Spies (Johannesburg: Ravan Press, 1995), 124. 11 “Sport on the ‘Fields,’” Cape Monthly Magazine 7 (November 1873): 120; “Health and Happiness: A Lay Sermon,” Cape Monthly Magazine 7 (November 1873): 305. 12 André Odendaal, “South Africa’s Black Victorians: Sport and Society in South Africa in the Nineteenth Century,” in Pleasure, Profit, Proselytism: British Culture and Sport at Home and Abroad, 1700–1914, ed. J.A. Mangan (London: Frank Cass, 1988), 199–200. 13 Quoted in Vivian Bickford-Smith, Ethnic Pride and Racial Prejudice in Victorian Cape Town: Group Identity and Social Practice, 1875–1902 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 149. 14 SA Coloured Rugby Football Board, Constitution, General Correspondence, 9/12/1897, De Beers Archives. 15 André Odendaal, The Story of an African Game (Cape Town: David Philip, 2003), 83. 16 Mark Dyreson, “Marketing National Identity: The Olympic Games of 1932 and American Culture,” Olympika: International Journal of Olympic Studies 4 (1995): 23–48. 17 Hendrik Snyders, “Rugby, National Pride and the Struggle of Black Rugby for International Recognition,” Sporting Traditions 32, no. 1 (May 2015): 106. 18 André Odendaal, “‘The Thing that is Not Round’: The Untold Story of Black Rugby in South Africa,” in Grundlingh, Odendaal, and Spies, Beyond the Tryline, 51. 19 Congress of the People, The Freedom Charter, Collection no. AD 1137: Federation of South African Women, 1954–63, University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg, Historical Papers Research Archive [hereafter cited as UWHPRA]. 20 Raymond Suttner, “Talking to the Ancestors: National Heritage, the Freedom Charter and Nation-Building in South Africa in 2005,” Development Southern Africa 23, no. 1 (March 2006), 6, 8. 21 “Rugby Team May Tour Japan,” West Australian (February 4, 1950), 4. 22 “Sports Round-up,” Imvo Zabantsundu (October 18, 1952). 23 Christopher Merrett, “‘In Nothing Else Are the Deprivers So Deprived’: South African Sport, Apartheid and Foreign Relations, 1945–1971,” International Journal of the History of Sport 13, no. 2 (August 1996): 147. 24 AD 1715: D.A. Brutus—the Manager: Hullett’s Sugar Refinery, July 16, 1962, South African Institute of Race Relations Collection [hereafter cited as SAIRR], UWHPRA. 25 AD 1715: D.A. Brutus (South African Sports Association—Appeal to All Olympic Councils), January 1, 1962, SAIRR, UWHPRA. 26 Odendaal, “Thing that is Not Round,” 45.

150 H. Snyders

27 F. Buntman, “Continuing and Extending Resistance and Struggle: The Role of Robben Island, 1963–1976,” Seminar Paper No. 369, presented on October 17, 1994 at the Institute for Advanced Social Research, University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg,. 28 Jama Matakata, Hills of Hope: The Autobiography of Jama Matakata (Pietermaritzburg, SA: Nutrend Productions, 2004), 76. 29 Christo Brand, Doing Life with Mandela: My Prisoner, My Friend (Cape Town: Jonathan Ball, 2014), 88. 30 Liz McGregor, “Mandela and Rugby: It All Began on Robben Island,” October 16, 2013, accessed March 12, 2015, http://www.lizmcgregor.co.za/mandela-and-rugby-it-a ll-began-on-robben-island. 31 Eddie Daniels, There and Back: Robben Island 1964–1979 (Bellville, SA: Mayibuye Books, 1998), 146–50. 32 M. Keim and L. Bouah, “Sport and Recreation on Robben Island,” International Journal of the History of Sport 30, no. 16 (2013): 1962–75. 33 Helen Suzman, In No Uncertain Terms: Memoirs (Johannesburg: Jonathan Ball, 1994), 153. 34 James Gregory, Goodbye Bafana: Nelson Mandela—My Prisoner, My Friend (London: Headline Book Publishing, 1995), 147–48. 35 Brand, Doing Life with Mandela, 18. 36 Robert D. Vassen, ed., Letters from Robben Island (Cape Town: Zebra Press, 2000), 53. 37 Suzman, In No Uncertain Terms, 154. 38 Daniels, There and Back, 190; Vassen (2000), Letters from Robben Island, 48. 39 Soudien, “Nelson Mandela, Robben Island,” 353. 40 W.F. Cascio and F. Luthans, “Reflections on the Metamorphosis at Robben Island: The Role of Institutional Work and Positive Psychological Capital,” Journal of Management Inquiry 23, no. 1 (2013): 51. 41 Neville Alexander, Robben Island Prison Dossier, 1964–1974: Report to the International Community (Cape Town: UCT Press, 1994), 112–13. 42 Vassen, Letters from Robben Island, 44. 43 Isaacs, Surviving in the Apartheid Prison, 199–200. 44 Keim and Bouah, “Sport and Recreation on Robben Island,” 10. 45 Cascio and Luthans, “Metamorphosis at Robben Island,” 51. 46 Julie Fredericks, transcribed interview with Steve Tshwete, November 5, 1987, SouthAfrican History Archive, 7, accessed October 30, 2015, http://www.saha.org.za/oralhis tory/transcript_of_interview_with_steve_tshwete_2.htm. 47 Boxes 1 and 5: General Sports and Recreation Committee, Mayibuye Centre for History and Culture in South Africa, University of the Western Cape, Bellville, SA. 48 Snyders, “Rugby, National Pride,” 106. 49 John Nauright, Sport, Cultures, and Identities in South Africa (Claremont, SA: David Philip, 1998), 62. 50 Buntman, “Continuing and Extending Resistance,” 24–25. 51 Corr and Close, More than Just a Game, 179. 52 Buntman, Robben Island and Prisoner Resistance, 5. 53 Hendrik Snyders, “Preventing Huddersfield: The Rise and Decline of Rugby League in South Africa, c. 1957–1965,” International Journal of the History of Sport 28, no. 1 ( January 2011): 9–31. 54 Trevor Lawson Richards, Dancing on Our Bones: New Zealand, South Africa, Rugby and Racism (Auckland: Royal New Zealand Foundation of the Blind, 2009). 55 “Lions-Leopards Clash Proof of Rugby Progress,” East London Daily Dispatch (May 14, 1980). 56 Message of the South African Rugby Union to the NSC Sports Conference, University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg, July 15 and 16, 1989, SA Rugby Board Archives [hereafter cited as SARBA]. 57 Sam Ramsammy—HE Mr. Roger Bambuck: Secretary of State for Youth and Sport, August 7, 1989, Correspondence: South African Non-Racial Olympic Committee (SAN-ROC).

The Robben Island Rugby Board 151

58 “Media Release,” May 22, 1989, Halt All Racial Tours [hereafter cited as HART]. 59 Anti-Apartheid Movement, Press Release: South African Sport Delegation to Meet British Government/World Rugby Tour, August 15, 1989. Dr. Ismael Jakoet [Former Treasurer—SARU] Private Collection. 60 “Anti-Apartheid Committee Dismayed,” May 31, 1989, United Nations Department of Public Information—Press Section, GA/AP/1918. Dr. Ismael Jakoet [Former Treasurer— SARU] Private Collection. 61 Max Du Preez, Louis Luyt: Unauthorised (Cape Town: Zebra Press, 2001), 47. 62 Louis Luyt, Walking Proud: The Louis Luyt Autobiography (Wynberg, SA: Don Nelson, 2003), 174–5. 63 Luyt, Walking Proud, 178. 64 Minutes of the General Meeting of the SA Rugby Board, November 11, 1988, BAV/ EGM 11/11/88, SARBA. 65 South African Hockey Board: Letter—General Secretary to the Secretary: South African Council on Sport [hereafter cited as SACOS], July 5, 1989. Dr. Ismael Jakoet [Former Treasurer—SARU] Private Collection. 66 Press Release, July 4, 1989, SACOS. 67 National Union of Mineworkers, “SARU and NUM Have Plans to Start up Rugby on Mines Next Year,” NUM News (December 1988), 16. 68 “NSC Statement of Intent,” National Sports Congress [hereafter cited as NSC], 1988. Dr. Ismael Jakoet [Former Treasurer—SARU] Private Collection. 69 NSC, Policy Statement, July 3, 1989. Dr. Ismael Jakoet [Former Treasurer—SARU] Private Collection. 70 International Campaign against Apartheid Sport and the South African Non-Racial Olympic Committee, Sport and Apartheid News Letter 1, no. 5 (March 1989). 71 African National Congress, Department of Arts and Culture, Facsimile Message to SA Rugby Union, February 23, 1990. 72 See Minutes of the Executive Committee Meeting, October 2, 1990, E/9.90 (02/10/ 90), and Minutes of the Executive Committee Meeting, February 1, 1991, E/1.91 (01/ 02/91)—both in SARBA. 73 Harold J. Wilson, SARU, unpublished manuscript, 37–39. South African Rugby Union Rugby Museum Collection.

10 THE BIRTH OF THE SPRINGBOKS How early international rugby matches unified white cultural identity in South Africa Zachary R. Bigalke

Introduction Sixty-five years after South Africa’s national rugby team embarked on its first international tour, Prime Minister John Vorster made a frank admission in a 1971 speech to Parliament. “The Springbok rugby team is not representative of the whole of South Africa,” Vorster told the assembly. “It has never been that. It has never claimed to be representative of the whole of South Africa. It is representative of the whites of South Africa.”1 What makes the prime minister’s statement so exceptional is not that he made such a transparent pronouncement about the Springboks. Rather, it is that the sentiment had become so deeply entrenched by the 1970s that it seemed perfectly natural to make such a declaration. Even as South Africa’s sports teams found themselves ostracized from international competition, Springboks rugby continued to serve a palliative function as a unifier between disparate white cultures. This unity was anything but a given when South African nationality was first beginning to coalesce in the early twentieth century. Over the course of the nineteenth century, relations between British colonists and descendants of earlier waves of Dutch immigrants sharing the territory that later became South Africa were marked by conflict. These hostilities erupted at various points into Dutch relocations, the formation of independent republics, and two wars during 1880–81 and 1899–1902. The terms of the Treaty of Vereeniging, signed on May 31, 1902, called for the incorporation of the former Boer states under the suzerain oversight of the British Crown, but with the restoration of local self-government. When Great Britain sent a rugby touring team to South Africa in 1903, the rifts of the recently ended war still ran deep among British and Afrikaner residents of the territory. Bitterness about the death of more than four thousand Boer women and twenty-two thousand Boer children lingered.2 Despite the favorable terms of the

The birth of the Springboks 153

treaty, much was still uncertain about what form the future of the colonies would take. In this environment, rugby offered one of the few pastimes with the potential to interest and bring together both groups of whites coexisting in what would become South Africa. This chapter investigates the creation of the semiotic linkages through the sport of rugby that helped unify the white communities of South Africa over the fiveyear period following the end of the Second Anglo–Boer War (1899–1902). White identity served as one of the few points of commonality for the British colonists and Dutch descendants who shared the territory. On the heels of the 1903 visit by the British team, the success of the Springboks on their first international tour in 1906–07 to Britain and France was an example of how rugby “made Dutch and English almost one … whilst their poor petty statesmen and politicians—had been trying to do the same thing in the past in vain.”3 As a shared pastime, rugby was a critical component in forging a unified white identity in South Africa. By offering the space to reconcile enmities and forge common history after two costly wars, rugby helped make union and the later apartheid state by creating a strong source of pride for white South Africans. Rugby success not only improved the international prestige of South Africa in Britain, the British Empire, and throughout Europe, but it also offered a representation of white South African successes through which both British and Dutch descendants could vicariously celebrate their growing prowess. Rugby effectively created a nucleus of sports fanaticism that made union between former enemy groups more palatable and that marked the sport’s status in the country.

Race and national identity in South African rugby The first international competitions undertaken by South Africa in the aftermath of British–Afrikaner ethnic conflict cemented the semiotic value of Springbok rugby on the national project. Success, especially on the first overseas tour of Europe in 1906–07, turned the visual markers of Springbok rugby, such as the logo and the colors, into national symbols through which both British and Afrikaner alike could express mutual pride. The role of sport in generating national identities is well documented. Barrie Houlihan, Alain Bairner, and others have highlighted these links on a conceptual level. As Houlihan notes, sport can provide groups that share few other ethnic, linguistic, religious, or sociocultural commonalities with a vehicle to manufacture “a coherent mythology and history which can anchor the character and form of the nation and provide a basis for national unity.”4 South Africa’s national formation occurred concurrently with other national movements and alongside the development of international sports competitions such as the modern Olympic Games. There is a rich literature on the role of rugby in the formation of white South African identity and its shifting influence in the national project. Dean Allen shows the cross-cultural appeal of Springbok rugby even in its earliest stages, noting that “while Afrikaners may have gone on to imbue rugby with more explicit national

154 Z.R. Bigalke

and ethnic characteristics than English-speaking whites, both groups were, at least, united in their support of the Springboks and in their identification with Springbok success.”5 John Nauright and Albert Grundlingh have highlighted the influence of Springbok rugby on the evolution of white culture, especially in the context of Afrikaner culture but also more generally among all white South Africans.6 Their work reinforces the scholarship by sociologists such as Bairner and Houlihan that helps emphasize how South Africa fits into a broader picture of sport as a vehicle for national identity formation. The semiotic value of Springboks rugby, however, was explicitly confined to white identities. Segregated competition was the norm long before apartheid became law in 1948. As Nauright has illuminated in several studies, black and colored rugby clubs and regional organizations developed separately from white rugby in South Africa as early as the 1880s.7 The division of white and nonwhite rugby teams had been standard practice since the first colored teams were established in Cape Town in 1886. Leagues formed not just along color lines but also along religious lines within communities, with separate Muslim leagues forming in the Bo-Kaap district of the city by the turn of the century.8 While exclusion and segregation were already established, Springbok rugby added a new dynamic to the situation. As a cultural representative of the nascent state, the national rugby team entrenched the exclusion of black and colored individuals in the formation of this new national identity. Color had served as a point of division in South Africa from the first Dutch settlements among the Khoikhoi in the seventeenth century. But race itself was a much more nebulous concept during this period, demonstrating Stuart Hall’s contention that race is a “floating signifier” defined more accurately through sociohistorical and sociocultural terminology than scientific markers.9 Predicated as it was on ancestry as much as on genetics, most racial tension in South Africa throughout the nineteenth century and into the first decade of the twentieth century centered not on questions of black and white, but rather British and Dutch.10 This approach to the “native question” was in many ways also reflective of the attitudes that had developed around race and sport in South African society. Urbanization of society was stratified, with geographic and cultural divisions formed around color, ethnicity, linguistics, and religion. The result was a proliferation of sports leagues serving divided communities. In this environment, with the various nonwhite communities factionalized, the commonalities between Afrikaner and British subjects of the colonies became more pronounced and their differences blurred. All they needed was a symbol onto which they could project the glories, and develop new mythologies, through which nationhood could flourish. The Treaty of Vereeniging tabled the issue of the nonwhite franchise until the former Boer republics had been granted self-government. As the South African Native Congress foreboded about the delays written into Section VIII in the Articles of Peace, the articles were designed in such a manner that they perpetuated and legalized Boer rhetoric that “the Natives must be taught that there is to be no alteration in the political relation of the whites to the blacks.”11 The antagonisms

The birth of the Springboks 155

that had developed over a century between British and Dutch descendants in South Africa dissipated as rugby generated a shared interest. As the white community solidified its grip on the narrative of national identity, it relegated black and colored athletes to their own self-organized competitions and positions outside the national narrative.

First reconciliation: The British tour of 1903 The South African colonial team that was assembled for the British team’s 1903 tour started the process to integrate the two main white demographics from the various colonial territories into one unified team. The team included three players of Dutch lineage—Paul Roos, Japie Krige, and Andrew Morkel—who integrated with the British majority on the team.12 Morkel was one of the few players to represent the Transvaal. While previous representative squads had included Afrikaner players on their side, they had been selected from Cape Town and Stellenbosch and thus did not represent the wider scope of Dutch descendants within the full geopolitical boundary.13 Coupled with the fact that many British players on the team had fought on the imperial side during the war, this early incarnation of the Springboks represented the conciliatory power of rugby. “Although older generations in South Africa might have been divided,” F.S. Malan noted about rugby, “the younger generation has come together in sport.”14 Three international tests were organized between the integrated colonial team and the British visitors. A large crowd assembled for the first contest on August 26, 1903, in Johannesburg. Those in attendance were treated to sunny skies and a hard-fought 10–10 draw that saw the home team push the visitors for the full 80 minutes.15 Just 12 years earlier, the first British team to visit South Africa had swept victoriously through its 19-match schedule and allowed only one try along the way.16 Thus, with the tie on August 26, South African rugby reached a milestone achievement. The two teams met again on September 5 in Kimberley, where another large group of spectators gathered on a clear day to watch both teams fight through “a determined but by no means a brilliant, struggle” to finish in a scoreless draw.17 The final test took place a week later in Cape Town. Despite a steady rain, another huge crowd stayed out to watch South Africa defeat the British 8–0 with a try and a goal in the second half of the contest. The Reuters reporter on the scene made special note of the performance of Transvaalers on the team, pointing out the general strength of the South Africans’ three-quarters compared to their opponents’.18 The win in Cape Town gave the South Africans their first victory in an international series, beginning a streak that would ultimately span the next five decades.19 The British team’s tour was designed to begin the process of reconciliation after the four years of Anglo–Boer conflict. In staging matches throughout South Africa, including in the former Boer republics, the goal was to unite white South Africans on and off the field, the joining of Dutch and British in a unified, collective colony loyal to the crown.20 Even then, the local press trumpeted the landmark victory in

156 Z.R. Bigalke

Cape Town as “a matter of pride and satisfaction to all Colonial born men” regardless of ancestral ethnicity.21 The two draws and the win by the 1903 South African team offered the first chance for recently warring groups to begin constructing shared traditions and history. As a result, the 1903 tour positioned the South Africa rugby team as an exemplar that provided a triumphal narrative whereby an uneasy truce could develop into union.

Becoming the Springboks: Preparing for the 1906–07 tour It would take two years before South Africa would get the opportunity to forge another chapter in this triumphal narrative. Two years after defeating the British team to win the first international series in the country’s history, the opportunity presented itself for a team of South Africans to tour the British Isles. In September 1905, the rugby authorities in London approved a South African tour of Britain to take place at the end of 1906.22 The game schedule issued by the English Rugby Union included 28 matches in 97 days, spanning from September 27, 1906, to January 1, 1907. The Graham’s Town Journal noted that the series presented “a very heavy list indeed, and it will need men of the strongest build to stand the strain.”23 Selections to represent South Africa were based on the Currie Cup competition in Johannesburg: a team of 28 players was named on July 28, 1906.24 All but one of the men selected had been born in the Cape Colony; William Morkel was the only player on the team who was a native-born representative of Transvaal.25 Morkel had fought on the Boer side during the war and was captured and imprisoned on St. Helena during the conflict.26 He joined his kinsman, the Kimberley-born 1903 holdover Andrew, on a roster replete with Dutch heritage.27 The players selected for the tour joined manager Cecil Carden of Port Elizabeth on the steamship German on August 27, 1906, after a luncheon with Cape notables. Both Afrikaner and British were represented on the roster, with Paul Roos serving as the captain and Harold J. “Paddy” Carolin as vice captain of the team.28 The selectors of the team had chosen nearly two full teams of players to bring on the trip, safeguarding against the inevitable injuries and fatigue that come with a heavy schedule of games. This tour was significant not only for the action on the pitch, but for its broader symbolic significance in establishing a distinctive appearance and style of on-field communication. Upon arriving in England, the South African rugby team donned the Springbok emblem for the first time. The image of the antelope indigenous to the western colonies was emblazoned on the myrtle green jerseys that had been the team’s colors since the British visit to South Africa in 1896. This combination of colors and crest became the national standard that all subsequent South African teams would wear on the field.29 The press quickly picked up on the symbol after the team’s first practice on British soil, and the Anglicized plural form (Springboks) became a new international identity for the team, symbolizing white South Africa.30 One of the most potent and enduring symbols of rugby, and one of the few symbols of apartheid-era South Africa to survive the transition to full democracy in the 1990s, the Springboks presented the Dutch and British citizens of South Africa a unified identity around which to rally.

The birth of the Springboks 157

The Springboks made another decision that demonstrated the unique identity that was forming among white South Africans. Members of the team communicated with each other during games in Afrikaans, using a language that had been given official sanction by the Treaty of Vereeniging, to disguise their intentions from British teams that had no prior familiarity with the dialect.31 With much of the team having been raised speaking Afrikaans, and the British members of the Springbok team having some familiarity with it, this provided a definite tactical advantage and endeared the team to the public back home.

First successes on foreign soil The South African team had two weeks to return to fitness before the first game against East Midlands at Northampton. This first match offered little challenge, as the Springboks overpowered East Midlands in a 37–0 shutout. The victory was the result of “physical superiority rather than cleverness,” an initial firsthand representation for the British of the “fine honest football played by the colonials.”32 Two days later they met Midland Counties at Leicester. Once again, the Springboks outmuscled their competition, preventing Midlands from scoring in a 29–0 victory. “The Colonials had met the cream of the Midlands,” the Daily Chronicle noted after the test, “and have made them look like thin skim milk.”33 The British press compared them to the New Zealand team that had defeated Midlands 21–5 on its 1905 tour, praising the Springboks for the “absence of anything foreign in their methods of formation.”34 It was felt, though, that neither of the first two opponents had presented a real challenge for the visitors and that “as yet they are really only a scratch team.”35 Heavy rains around London were expected to handicap the Springboks when they faced Kent at Blackheath on October 3. Instead, South Africa won a third straight game without allowing a point, defeating Kent 21–0. Despite the foul weather, 10,000 people came out to observe the match. The home side held the Springboks to a solitary try by Vice Captain Carolin in the first half but could not match the physicality of the colonial side in the second half.36 But that physicality was already taking its toll. The South African Rugby Board held a special meeting on October 5 to consider whether to refortify a team that was already beginning to suffer from illnesses and injuries.37 The match against Durham County the following day was supposed to present the toughest test of the trip to that point. Durham scored the first points the Springboks had allowed in four matches, but South Africa still handled the county squad 22–4. The provincial side’s performance to that point was “exceedingly discreditable,” according to The Times of London, which added that “the exceptionally clean game played by the South Africans” merited strict officiating. Already the English and Welsh teams the Springboks had faced were having to resort to trickery to try to keep the score as close as possible.38 South Africa downed both their next two opponents, Northumberland and Yorkshire, by a combined score of 78–0. In their first six tests, the Springboks had scored 187 points while allowing just 4. Their match against Devonshire, however,

158 Z.R. Bigalke

was nearly forfeited. Suiting up for Devon on October 17 was Jimmy Peters, who earlier that year had become the first black player to earn a cap for England in the international contest against Scotland in 1906. The Springboks initially refused to take the field against a black player, and it took the intervention of the South African high commissioner to commence the match.39 Finally the players took the pitch, which had become soaked from ongoing rain showers. The 18,000 spectators in the stands remained through the delays and the inclement weather, to watch a game that played fast through the center of the field but bogged down by the trylines. Devon County became just the second team to score on the Springboks, but the South Africans won their seventh straight match of the tour 22–4.40 The last four matches of October yielded more victories, against tougher competition. Continued wet weather slowed down the pace, and the Springboks experimented with a 3-4-1 scrum formation in hopes that it would provide better purchase on grounds softened by rain.41 Tactical innovations did not yield many points, however, as the Springboks scored progressively fewer points in each match. Competition was improving with each new opponent, and a knowledgeable crowd back home understood the challenges posed by strong local teams like Newport and Glamorgan County. The 8–0 shutout of Newport on October 27 was heralded as “the most popular win of the tour up to the present, for the reason that it was not generally expected.”42 But the team proved strong defensively, allowing just 13 points in its first 11 matches, and it reached November undefeated. Crowds gathered around the offices of newspapers such as the Cape Times as “enthusiasts, old and young of both sexes” congregated to get the latest news from the tour. Fans’ celebrations became newsworthy, as “the enthusiasm displayed when it was known that South Africa had scored such a notable success was wonderful.”43 When they matched up against Oxford University on November 7, the Springboks faced off against six of their compatriots. The halfback tandem Williamson and Flemmer hailed from St. Andrew’s College in Graham’s Town, as had the forwards Hoskin, Gardner, and Healley. The sixth South African playing for Oxford, Howe Browne, had come to England from Diocesan College in Western Province. The Springboks, however, had far more talent than the university men and won their thirteenth straight contest 24–6 in front of 5,000 spectators.44 The first international game of the tour took the Springboks to Glasgow, where they were pitted against the Scottish national squad on November 20. In a rough match that saw the South Africans suffer several injuries due to the rough play of the Scots, the hosts walked away with a 6–0 victory. After 15 straight wins in less than two months, the Springboks had finally lost a contest. The popular opinion in South Africa was that the Springboks had been unlucky and would have prevailed if fully healthy; three days later, they dispatched the North of Scotland select team 35–5 at Aberdeen as Arthur Marsburg scored three tries.45

The birth of the Springboks 159

Expressions of Springbok fanaticism When Judge J.D. Walton sat down to preside over “D” Court in Johannesburg on November 26, 1906, he confronted a packed courtroom. Bodies took up all available space, with the seats filled to capacity and every square foot of standing room occupied by interested onlookers. That day’s docket featured an unusual case that was linked to the events taking place nearly 10,000 kilometers away in Belfast. The earliest documented case of Springbok rugby fanaticism had brought four young men to Walton’s court that day to face charges of disturbing the public peace. The four men on trial—J.E. Smith, P.F. Pretorius, W. Potts, and L. Holledge—had been among several hundred people celebrating South Africa’s 15–12 victory over Ireland two days earlier in the second international game of the tour.46 Steve Joubert had dominated the Irish on defense, forcing the host team to try, futilely, to match the Springboks’ tactics.47 Although they left some points on the field, South Africa’s defense once again held on to preserve a lead against a spirited attack. The victory in Belfast sent fans back in Johannesburg parading in celebration down Pritchard Street. The crowd unleashed Springbok war cries throughout the neighborhood, reveling in the first international victory on foreign soil by a South African team. Smith was arrested as he started to climb up a lamppost, and the crowd followed the police to Marshall Square as they led him toward the Charge Office. As Smith was being processed and locked in a cell, Potts and Holledge began passing about a hat to collect bail money for their compatriot. The police returned to disperse the crowd, fighting to be heard above the din. When the group refused to leave the square, the other three men now on trial were summarily charged and incarcerated alongside Smith.48 In the trial, it was revealed that both arresting officers were Irish immigrants to South Africa. Playing to the crowded courtroom, lawyers for the defense focused on the Irish nativity of the arresting officers. Cross-examining Sergeant Page, the defense asked whether he was “a bit hurt that your favourites had lost?” The sergeant declared it “a matter of indifference” and asserted he was merely doing his job, but the inference that national bias had played a part in his decision-making process was by then well rooted in the court of public opinion. All of the officers examined in the courtroom acknowledged the exceptional nature of a national victory but argued that such celebrations did not excuse them from carrying out their duties when appropriate for the circumstances.49 The defense argued vociferously about the victory in Ireland as a mitigating factor meriting leniency toward their clients. Given the preponderance of evidence betraying their lack of innocence, Judge Walton had no choice but to issue guilty verdicts against the four men. But he also accepted that extraordinary circumstances had first prompted the assembling of the crowd on Pritchard Street. Handing down his verdict, the magistrate leniently issued a nominal fine of one shilling each to the four perpetrators, refusing to punitively castigate the men for celebrating what he too saw as a national victory.50

160 Z.R. Bigalke

With each new victory by the Springboks, a burgeoning sense of nationhood among white South Africans continued to germinate. They had been given little hope of beating a strong Welsh side in their third international on December 1, a team regarded as “one of the best balanced sides the Principality has ever chosen.”51 Wales had gone seven straight years without a home loss, including a 3–0 victory over the All Blacks during New Zealand’s tour the previous year. It would be the only defeat suffered by New Zealand on their tour, demonstrating the strength of the Welsh game in the early years of the twentieth century. Fifty thousand Welsh supporters braved foul weather to witness the match. Serenading the teams with the Welsh national anthem, a custom that had started in response to New Zealand’s performance of the haka war dance the year before, the crowd prepared for what was expected to be another victory for Wales.52 The hosts held firm defensively for the first 25 minutes, until Joubert received the ball on the wing and burst through for the first try. The spectators redoubled their cheering, hoping to arouse a response from the Welsh squad, but a few minutes later Bob Loubser feinted Teddy Morgan and crossed the tryline for a second score. The masses circling the pitch, intelligent and appreciative of quality rugby, “hailed with vociferous enthusiasm” the quality of the Springboks after their dominant performance culminated in an unprecedented shutout of the home team.53 The Springboks’ win over the Welshmen at Swansea sent fans back in Johannesburg jubilantly onto Pritchard Street for a second straight weekend of celebrations. Both men and women donned variations of green and gold, spontaneously sporting whatever articles they could find in their wardrobes that approximated the national team’s colors. Bugles, rattles, and toy trumpets combined with the chanting of the crowd, a triumphant cacophony buzzing late into the night. Perhaps taking a lesson from the incidents following the win over Ireland the previous weekend, sergeants on duty redirected traffic away from the throngs teeming along Pritchard rather than attempting to break up the masses.54 The enthusiasm for South African rugby was at an all-time high. Fans following the Springbok exploits had readily adopted the colors and symbols that had come to identify the national team. The colonial government, in exhibiting leniency toward outbursts of celebration, recognized the intrinsic value in fostering unified support for the team touring Britain. In Newport, one fan went so far as to name his newborn baby “Springbok” after getting caught up in the revelry attending the victory over Wales.55

The financial success of the tour Not only had the tour been a competitive success to this point, but it had also yielded substantial shares of gate receipts for the Springboks. After accounting for expenses accrued during the tour, the surplus continued to grow. For the players, who were “amateurs in the truest sense of the word” and would “receive no share of the profits in any shape or form,” the success at the turnstile was solely a matter

The birth of the Springboks 161

of pride and cultural exchange. Although the South African Rugby Board had expressed reservations about monetizing the tour of Britain, commercial interests had no such scruples about profiting from the popularity of the Springboks. Newspapers advertised commemorative postcards and posters for sale that tracked the results throughout the tour, cashing in on the rising enthusiasm for a unified South African team across colonial borders. One enterprising firm, United Tobacco Companies, incorporated the Springboks into its December promotion. The manufacturers of Three Castles and Duke’s Cameo cigarettes offered cash prizes for smokers who could accurately predict a variety of statistics for the final match of the tour against Cardiff.56 Twenty-six winners would eventually receive awards, and Zeller Bros. on Pritchard Street in Johannesburg claimed the shopkeeper’s prize for the most sales toward the promotion. The campaign was such a success that another contest was organized around the South African cricket tour the following year.57 Although smoking was already popular, South Africans bought United Tobacco products and supported the promotion thanks to their interest in the Springboks and the successful British tour. The Springboks had a week off between the Wales game and their fourth international against England. The team was feted with a luncheon at the House of Commons on the afternoon before the test. Mark Lockwood, the member of Parliament from Epping who spoke during the banquet, said that the “gentlemanly behaviour of the team had won all hearts.” The MP’s compliment was picked up by South African media and reprinted in African newspapers.58 Meanwhile, the British press held out little hope for the English team when they met the visiting Springboks on December 8, as they would be playing without the Scottish and Welsh reinforcements that comprised British touring teams. The two sides took the pitch at Crystal Palace on a cold, wet London day, and 40,000 bundled souls encircled the field in anticipation. A muddy field slowed down the Springbok attack, and William Morkel was injured during the game. The Transvaal forward would later be diagnosed with appendicitis, which required an operation that extended his stay in Britain beyond the tour’s conclusion.59 Morkel would play in several matches after the injury before becoming the second Springbok to succumb to appendicitis; Japie Krige, one of the three Afrikaners to feature in both the 1903 and 1906 series, was also knocked out of competition and required surgery.60 The Springboks dominated play throughout the afternoon, and “only the greasiness of the ball and the ground saved the Englishmen from a series of disasters.”61 South Africa would take a 3–0 lead in the first half, but a late score by England secured a 3–3 draw for the hosts.62 The indecisive result led to calls from prominent figures, including future prime minister Winston Churchill, for a rematch63 It was not the first time that an offer to extend the tour had been made. In October, French sportsmen extended an invitation to the Springboks to visit Paris after the completion of their British itinerary, and once the offer was formally extended, the South African Rugby Board accepted the opportunity to play the French national team on January 3.64 By December, there was a groundswell of support for the extension of the tour

162 Z.R. Bigalke

into mid-January to allow for rematches against Scotland, Wales, and England.65 In the end, only the French sojourn was arranged, and the New Year’s Day showdown with Cardiff in the Welsh capital would remain the last game the Springboks would play in the British Isles on their tour. South Africa put together a six-game winning streak after the contest with the England team to finish 1906 with 25 victories in 27 matches. Only the loss to Scotland and the draw with England blemished an otherwise perfect record. Fatigue and injuries were beginning to catch up with players in their third straight month of touring, and although the Springboks were still winning, they were playing less consistently. Wind was a factor in a narrow 11–8 victory over Lancashire, with “only one good piece of passing among the Springboks’ backs.”66 Cecil Carden decided to rest Stegman, Loubser, Joubert, and Carolin during the Cornwall match, and the move almost backfired. Cornwall scored the first try off an early scrum, and South Africa had to wait 20 minutes into the match before pulling even. Two more tries before halftime preserved a 9–3 win.67 Even in their 21–0 defeat of Cumberland, “the South Africans’ defence was often severely taxed.”68 Fatigue was especially notable in the penultimate match against Llanelli on December 29, where the “South Africans were taking no risks, and though most of them have gone stale every man on the side was keenly desirous of inflicting defeat.”69 Llanelli kept the match close through the first half, but the Springboks managed to pull away in the second period to win 16–3. All that remained of their British experience was to celebrate the New Year in Cardiff. The first day of 1907 yielded miserable conditions for rugby, as a biting wind swept off the Bristol Channel through the stadium, chilling the 50,000 rain-soaked spectators and the players on the pitch. Despite their attempts to compensate for soft turf with tactical ingenuity, the Springboks failed to properly adapt to the treacherous conditions and played with little cohesion.70 Cardiff, looking much more at ease in the rain and the mud, restored Welsh pride with a 17–0 upset of the South Africans. The loss marked the only defeat the Springboks suffered against a regional club. The following day, the Springboks crossed the English Channel, making their way to Paris, where they routed the French team 55–3 at the Parc des Princes on January 3. The press, perhaps taking the victory for granted, was more laudatory about the fact that the South Africans refused to accept more of the gate receipts than what was needed to cover their expenses for the French detour.71 The team remained on the mainland for over a week after the international game against France, then set sail homeward from Waterloo.72 A transfer in Southampton afforded the opportunity for a farewell luncheon before the team boarded the RMS Norman for the voyage back to South Africa.73

Conclusion: White relations after the tour The Springboks were celebrated throughout South Africa upon their return, not “as heroes returning from a successful campaign, but as worthy representatives of the early youth and manhood of South Africa.”74 The team was lauded for

The birth of the Springboks 163

displaying the best possible representation of the character of white South Africa. Hyman Liberman, the first Jewish mayor of Cape Town, summed up the sentiments of most South Africans when he greeted the team at the docks as they disembarked from the Norman: “We now understand each other better, and if this is going to be one of the results of the tour we shall be more than satisfied.”75 The tour opened avenues of discourse for the eventual unification of South Africa. Team captain Paul Roos articulated the hope “that in the near future the two races would understand each other better and work hand in hand to noble purpose.”76 Rugby offered a common bond of whiteness within the emergent nation. The unified South African team also helped open more cordial relations between Britain and its colonies. “The South Africans have demonstrated that the colonies are capable of rejuvenating the methods of the Motherland,” the Morning Post expounded after the tour, “and have shown that the race from which they spring is equal to ours in courage, chivalry and sportsmanship.”77 The tour was thus a key element in the reconciliation process between the sovereign government in London and its colonies in South Africa. Less than four years after the conclusion of the Springboks’ landmark tour of the British Isles, the Union of South Africa would be formalized, as Afrikaner leaders Louis Botha and Jan Smuts reached out to English speakers in the colonies to form a broader coalition in support of a centralized state. “In a South African nation alone was a solution,” Smuts would say three months after the Springboks returned home. “Two such peoples as the Boers and the English must either unite or they must exterminate each other.”78 Through rugby, the two communities proved not only that unification was possible, but also that it offered the possibility of achieving mutually desirable results. Rugby remained a unifying force for white South Africa throughout the process of confederation. Non-white citizens of the country became further marginalized during this time, illustrating the ways in which the Springboks served as both a unifying force and a closed group. The racial composition of the Springboks’ roster mirrored the composition of the leaders involved in the nation-building process, as the white South African community embraced the Springboks as a cultural emblem and used the team to project white strength in South Africa.79 Through the 1930s, the Springboks remained an expression of unified white power in South Africa, at which point the Broederbond began the process of co-opting the sport as a distinctly Afrikaner sport.80 For the first two decades of union, though, rugby offered an avenue for the development of positive common history between South Africans of British and Afrikaner heritage alike. The 1903 visit to South Africa by the British touring team and the 1906–07 tour by the Springboks to Britain provided the first consensus narratives upon which the various white populations of the country could build a shared national heritage. In achieving success on and off the field, the Springboks facilitated the period of reconciliation both within the white population of South Africa and between the colonies and the colonizing force. This rugby cultural exchange opened the door for the development of mutual respect between British and South African people, provided opportunities for white South Africans of all ethnicities to integrate through celebratory rituals, and continued the process of assuaging the lingering enmities between British and Dutch colonials.

164 Z.R. Bigalke

Notes 1 Douglas Booth, “Recapturing the Moment?: Global Rugby, Economics, and the Politics of Nation in Post-Apartheid South Africa,” in Making the Rugby World: Race, Gender, Commerce, ed. Timothy J.L. Chandler and John Nauright (London: Frank Cass, 1999), 183. 2 Hermann Giliomee, The Afrikaners: Biography of a People (Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2009), 256. 3 “Onze Jan” Hofmeyr (1909), quoted in Burridge Spies, “The Imperial Heritage: Rugby and White English-Speaking South Africa,” in Albert Grundlingh, André Odendaal, and Burridge Spies, Beyond the Tryline: Rugby and South African Society (Johannesburg: Ravan Press, 1995), 75. 4 Barrie Houlihan, “Sport, National Identity, and Public Policy,” Nations and Nationalism 3, no. 1 (1997): 119. See also Alain Bairner, “Assessing the Sociology of Sport: On National Identity and Nationalism,” International Review for the Sociology of Sport 50, no. 4 (2015): 375–79; and Paddy Dolan and John Connolly, eds., Sport and National Identities: Globalization and Conflict (London: Routledge, 2017). 5 Dean Allen, “Tours of Reconciliation: Rugby, War and Reconstruction in South Africa, 1891–1907,” Sport in History 27, no. 2 (2007): 185. 6 For more on the influence of rugby in the later creation of Afrikaner identity, see Albert Grundlingh, “Playing for Power?: Rugby, Afrikaner Nationalism and Masculinity in South Africa, c.1900–70,” International Journal of the History of Sport 11, no. 3 (1994): 408–30; and John Nauright, “‘A Besieged Tribe’?: Nostalgia, White Cultural Identity and the Role of Rugby in a Changing South Africa,” International Review for the Sociology of Sport 31, no. 1 (1996): 69–86. Both Grundlingh and Nauright have also focused on the impact of postapartheid politics on rugby and national identity; see Tony Collins and John Nauright, eds., The Rugby World in the Professional Era (London: Routledge, 2017). 7 David R. Black and John Nauright, Rugby and the South African Nation (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1998), 49. 8 John Nauright, “Rugby, Carnival, Masculinity and Identities in ‘Coloured’ Cape Town,” in Making the Rugby World: Race, Gender, Commerce, ed. Timothy J.L. Chandler and John Nauright (London: Frank Cass, 1999), 29–30. 9 Stuart Hall, quoted in Race, the Floating Signifier, DVD, directed by Sut Jhally (1997; Northampton, MA: Media Education Foundation, 2002. The official transcript can also be found at http://www.mediaed.org/transcripts/Stuart-Hall-Race-the-Floating-Signi fier-Transcript.pdf. 10 Giliomee, Afrikaners, 15. 11 “Questions Affecting the Natives and Coloured People Resident in British South Africa,” in From Protest to Challenge: A Documentary History of African Politics in South Africa, vol. 1: Protest and Hope, 1882–1934, ed. Thomas Karis and Gwendolen M. Carter (Stanford, CA: Hoover Institution Press, 1972), 22. 12 Allen, “Tours of Reconciliation,” 178. 13 John Nauright, Sport, Cultures and Identities in South Africa (London: Leicester University Press, 1997), 43. 14 Malan quoted in Allen, “Tours of Reconciliation,” 181. 15 “Football, Rugby,” Mafeking (South Africa) Mail and Protectorate Guardian (August 27, 1903). 16 Allen, “Tours of Reconciliation,” 173. 17 “Rugby,” Mafeking (South Africa) Mail and Protectorate Guardian (September 7, 1903). 18 “Rugby, Afrikanders v. English,” Rhodesia Herald (September 19, 1903). 19 Nauright, Sport, Cultures and Identities, 41. 20 Black and Nauright, Rugby and the South African Nation, 32. 21 “Football,” Cape Daily Telegraph (September 15, 1903). 22 Allen, “Tours of Reconciliation,” 180. 23 “The South African Team,” Graham’s Town Journal (September 18, 1906). 24 Allen, “Tours of Reconciliation,” 180. 25 “The Team for England,” Bulawayo Chronicle (September 1, 1906).

The birth of the Springboks 165

26 Allen, “Tours of Reconciliation,” 181. 27 Weldon Broughton, “How South Africa’s Most Famous Football Clan Was Founded,” Cape Argus (October 14, 1933). 28 Black and Nauright, Rugby and the South African Nation, 33. 29 Allen, “Tours of Reconciliation,”182. 30 Spies, “Imperial Heritage,” 74; “S.A. Rugby Team Called the ‘Springboks,’” Rhodesia Herald (September 28, 1906). 31 Nauright, Sport, Cultures and Identities, 42. 32 “South African Rugby Footballers,” Times of Swaziland (September 29, 1906). 33 Black and Nauright, Rugby and the South African Nation, 33. 34 “Springboks Victorious Again,” Graham’s Town Journal (October 2, 1906). 35 Ibid. 36 “S. Africans v. Kent,” Graham’s Town Journal (October 4, 1906). 37 “More Springboks Wanted,” Graham’s Town Journal (October 4, 1906). 38 Graham’s Town Journal (October 16, 1906). 39 “Making Rugby History,” BBC, January 29, 2008, accessed December 12, 2014, http:// www.bbc.co.uk/devon/community_life/features/jimmy_peters.shtml. 40 “Springboks Beat Devons,” Graham’s Town Journal (October 18, 1906). 41 Nauright, Sport, Cultures and Identities, 42. 42 “The Newport Match,” Cape Daily Telegraph (October 29, 1906). 43 “Still Unbeaten,” Cape Times (November 1, 1906). 44 “Springboks v. Oxford University,” Graham’s Town Journal (November 8, 1906). 45 “South African Rugby Footballers: Scotland Wins,” Times of Swaziland (November 24, 1906). 46 “Rugby Enthusiasts,” Rand Daily Mail (November 27, 1906). 47 “A Battle of Giants,” Rand Daily Mail (November 27, 1906). 48 “Rugby Enthusiasts.” Rand Daily Mail. 49 Ibid. 50 Ibid. 51 “Springboks v. Wales,” Graham’s Town Journal (November 29, 1906). 52 “Another Account: Details of the Game,” Rand Daily Mail (December 3, 1906). 53 “Wah! Beaten in Fair Fight at Their Own Game,” Rand Daily Mail (December 3, 1906). 54 “’Twas a Famous Victory: Rand Rejoicings,” Rand Daily Mail (December 3, 1906). 55 “Hero Worship,” Rand Daily Mail (December 7, 1906). 56 “Springbokken Football Competition,” Rand Daily Mail (December 1, 1906). 57 “Springbokken Result: The £100 Distributed,” Mafeking (South Africa) Mail and Protectorate Guardian ( January 22, 1907). 58 “The ‘Springboks’ Tour, Visit to Parliament,” Bulawayo Chronicle (December 15, 1906). 59 “Further Details: A Wet Ball, Morkel Injured,” Bulawayo Chronicle (December 15, 1906); “Sick Springbok,” Rand Daily Mail (December 28, 1906). 60 “Sporting Notes,” Graham’s Town Journal (December 13, 1906). 61 “Why the Springboks Did Not Win,” Rand Daily Mail (December 10, 1906). 62 “Fourth Test Match,” Graham’s Town Journal (December 11, 1906). 63 “A Replay Desired,” Graham’s Town Journal (December 11, 1906). 64 “Invitation to France,” Graham’s Town Journal (October 18, 1906). 65 “Springboks’ Tour,” Rand Daily Mail (December 11, 1906). 66 “Springboks v. Lancashire,” Graham’s Town Journal (December 13, 1906). 67 “Springboks in Cornwall,” Rand Daily Mail (December 24, 1906). 68 “Springboks v. Cumberland,” Graham’s Town Journal (December 18, 1906). 69 “Taffies Fail Again,” Rand Daily Mail (December 31, 1906). 70 “Conquered by Cardiff,” Rand Daily Mail ( January 2, 1907). 71 “Springboks on Top, Tributes from France,” Rand Daily Mail ( January 8, 1907). 72 “‘Ghee! Wah!’ Victorious ‘Bokken Sail,’” Rand Daily Mail ( January 14, 1907). 73 “At Southampton, a Farewell Luncheon,” Rand Daily Mail ( January 14, 1907). 74 “Welcome Home,” Rand Daily Mail ( January 30, 1907).

166 Z.R. Bigalke

75 76 77 78 79

Allen, “Tours of Reconciliation,” 184. Ibid., 183. Black and Nauright, Rugby and the South African Nation, 34. Giliomee, Afrikaners, 358. Karen Farquharson and Timothy Marjoribanks, “Transforming the Springboks: Re-imagining the South African Nation through Sport,” Social Dynamics 29, no. 1 (2003): 29. 80 Ronald Hyam and Peter Henshaw, The Lion and the Springbok: Britain and South Africa since the Boer War (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 15–16.

11 A TALE OF TWO SPORTS FIELDS Contested spaces, histories, and identities at play in rural South Africa Tarminder Kaur

Introduction Sports in South Africa, from the very first recorded game, have been imbued with racial associations. Historical literature on South African sport, when not overt celebration of sporting achievements of those racially classified as white, often depicts the racial divides and struggles over recognition.1 Still, the socially and politically constructed racial labels referred to in this chapter are particular to South Africa’s past and present. While politically imposed, identification with race continues to have meaning and consequences in the everyday experiences and conversations of South Africans.2 The historical geography and contemporary organization of sports reflect the racial, class, gender, and rural–urban divides, configuring access to sports in diverse yet particular ways. This chapter locates sociopolitical processes and experiences in a particular time and place as access to sports and spaces for sports was negotiated. Situated right next to each other in the small rural town of Rawsonville, in Western Cape Province, the conditions and clientele of two sports fields illustrate how past and present social divides shape the sporting experiences of the town’s inhabitants and the deeper social meanings these spaces have come to symbolize. I draw from my ethnographic fieldwork conducted on sporting lives of the working class of Rawsonville from April 2012 to May 2013. While the narrow focus of my study was on the social “development” of a group referred to as “farm workers,” the spaces for sports offered unique and important anthropological and analytical insights. By focusing on the symbolism of sports spaces, John Bale, in Sports Geography, shows how these affect and are affected by changing social, economic, and political forces.3 Making a case for attending to the geography of sports, Bale argues that “insights about the workings of human society can often be found from the most marginal and surprising of sources.”4 In a similar vein, Victor Turner relates

168 T. Kaur

that the “way people play perhaps is more revealing of a culture than how they work.”5 Similarly, attending to concerns over access to sports fields proved particularly revealing of the social history, identity politics, and racial and class struggles in the small town of Rawsonville. Analyzing what Bale calls “geometrification” of spaces for achievement sports (as opposed to recreation), he shows how the highly structured, increasingly scientific, and technically uniform sites or stadiums for specific sports reflect a kind of imposition of order that displaces play.6 Caroline Fusco, drawing on Bale’s concept of “geometrification,” argues that this marks the “triumph of modern sport over the open unbounded spaces of physical activity,” creating and normalizing “sports spaces that [are] highly gendered, classed, and raced.”7 Likewise, the stories of how and by whom the two sports fields I studied were accessed illuminate the complex yet subtle peculiarities of the social (sporting) life of the town. In particular, ethnography of the spatial organization of the two sports fields and the stories that circulate about them show how historical constructions of social identities, race, class, and resultant social and economic inequalities are experienced, sustained, and contested in everyday negotiations over access to sports and sports fields. Before I describe the spatial and social landscape of sports facilities in the town of Rawsonville, I will provide an overview of the historical and political organization of sports in South Africa. Situating the history and origins of the two centrally located fields within the broader sports infrastructure in Rawsonville, I draw out the different ways of organizing, and different meanings attached to, access to the sports fields. Given that I devoted more time and energy to engaging with the concerns of black and colored working-class people, my political sympathies and arguments privilege their positionality and perspectives. By way of conclusion, I discuss the complicated and messy ways in which identity politics has shaped the sporting landscape of Rawsonville.

Historical and political organization of South African sports With the institutionalization of apartheid from 1948, racial separation in sports participation and spaces took on an aggressively rigid and repressive form. While racial discrimination and segregation pre-dates apartheid, various forms of discrimination were now formalized as acts, policies, and laws of the land.8 The stratification and organization of the whole population into race hierarchies (with whites at the top, blacks at the bottom, and coloreds and Indians somewhere in the middle) and the racial segregation policies of the time assigned and confined each group to separate physical (residential, recreational, and commercial) areas, economic options, political rights, and social life.9 Not only did the sports enthusiasts classified as colored, black, or Indian have severely restricted access to scarce sports facilities and competitive opportunities, but sports that became associated with blacks, such as soccer, were also relegated to an inferior status.10 In this way, South African sport has been imbued with racial, class, gender, and political symbolism. For example, the sport of rugby and “the notions of Afrikaners as solid, pioneering men of the soil” have been two

A tale of two sports fields 169

emblematic markers of white Afrikaner nationalism and cultural identity.11 Soccer, on the other hand, has been seen as a working-class sport, and at least since the early 1950s has become a pastime of black people, practiced often in informal makeshift spaces and facilitated with inadequate infrastructural capacity.12 While racial and class associations with different sports convey a particular historical narrative, in practice these markers have hardly been simplistic or consistent. Such racial affiliations with sports are further complicated in a region where the majority of the population was classified as colored, a complex racial/cultural identity also known for strong affinity to the sport of rugby.13 For instance, out of the six rugby clubs I recorded in the broader farmlands in and around Rawsonville, only one had predominantly white members, while five involved management and participation largely by colored members. Similarly, more of the soccer teams in my study region consisted of, and were run by, colored farmworkers. There were, of course, a large number of black soccer enthusiasts (players, coaches, managers, and spectators), but none of the soccer teams or clubs in the rural town identified themselves as exclusive to a racial or ethnic identity. A soccer club could be dominated by, say, amaXhosa or BaSotho or colored players, but none of these ethnic or racial associations seems to carry the weight that came with previously white sports organizations (at least not in the small town of Rawsonville). The soccer players and managers openly invited anyone who wished to join their club. During informal conversations, discussions revolved around recruiting (sometimes even poaching) stronger players to play for one’s club, rather than concerns over a player’s racial or ethnic affiliation. When racial and ethnic identities were invoked, it was often after the fact, to justify or explain a situation of conflict, or struggles over resources, recognition, or positions of power. Sports policies under apartheid legislated all forms of organized sports with national and international recognition and significance as a reserve of those racially classified as whites.14 While there were separate sports federations administering sports for each racial group, the “official” sport meant that administered and participated in by whites. Apartheid’s 1956 ban on interracial sports further denied athletes of color any form of recognition or opportunity. This not only affirmed the hegemony of white sports federations but also reduced black sports to unofficial or merely social status, played for “exercise and pleasure.”15 Official sports, being no longer governed by discriminatory racial policies today, continue to be important sites of political and social contestation and therefore offer a rich context to examine how race, class, and forms of identity politics continue to shape South Africans’ experiences. The tone, logic, and terms by which access to the two sports fields in Rawsonville were negotiated in recent times are a product of this messy history and politics.

Geographical organization of sports in Rawsonville Rawsonville is about 90 kilometers northeast of Cape Town, in the municipal district of Cape Winelands and administered by the local municipality of Breede Valley. It is surrounded by large commercial fruit and grape farms, vineyards, and cellars; agriculture, wine production, and tourism are among the primary economic

170 T. Kaur

activities in the region. While a small core of permanent laborers lived in the on-farm labor housing provided by the farmers (employers, also often land and business owners), a larger number of laborers (seasonal, contract, temporary, and permanent) come from the township areas of rural towns like Rawsonville. The Smalblaar River runs through the town, separating the previously whites-only suburban area from the township, called De Nova, and its extended informal settlements—a typical apartheid town-plan. The townships were introduced by the colonial administration in the early 1900s to serve “twin objectives of segregating black people from white while providing cheap housing for workers and their families employed for low wages in white-owned firms.”16 In 1954, as a mechanism to control the influx of migrants in the Cape, the Colored Labor Preference policy was introduced, adding a particular dimension of racial politics to the social and economic lives of the people who made their living in the Western Cape.17 The policy legalized the expulsion of black Africans from the Cape, creating divides between black and colored laborers, and rendering black laborers invisible, while many continued to live and work at the white-owned commercial farms. Even today, it is predominantly the black and colored working class who lives in the townships and ever-expanding informal settlements. For example, colored and black working-class people reside in De Nova township, including skilled and unskilled laborers, but also teachers, nurses, pastors, domestic workers, security guards, evicted farmworkers, and the unemployed. The previously white areas of Rawsonville, however, no longer hold their racially exclusive status, but maintain a bourgeois character. Both of the sports fields under discussion were situated on the previously white side of town. The Rawsonville Municipal Sports Field (soccer field) and the Goudini High School Sports Field (rugby field) are the two centrally located sports fields in the town of Rawsonville. The former was built and maintained by the Breede Valley Municipality’s Operational Services.18 It was also the only sports field in and around Rawsonville maintained to official parameters for soccer. While it was located in the pre-1994 “white” (and therefore privileged) part of the rural town, at the rear of the older rugby field, access to the soccer field was as if through the back entrance to the rugby field, via a dirt track (neither tarred nor evenly graveled). The entrance to the soccer field was through an iron gate, big enough for a large pickup truck to drive through, and despite the absence of a designated parking area, there was enough space for cars and trucks to park anywhere around the outside of the playing field. The soccer field itself was neatly maintained and regularly marked for the league games. There were floodlights as well as locker rooms to accommodate at least two soccer teams at a given time. However, the space outside the actual playing area was left alone. This space—uneven, rocky, at times overgrown and full of all sorts of rubbish (plastic, paper, and broken glass)—was where the spectators congregated. Spectators (including coaches, managers, and players waiting to play) would either stand around the field while the game was in play, or find a corner, a rock, or the wall to sit against, or those with access to a car might watch the game sitting in the vehicle while playing loud music on the car stereo. Playing teams’ coaches, managers, and some very enthusiastic supporters

A tale of two sports fields 171

(often intoxicated) could be seen running up and down along the length of the field, cheering on the players. Unlike the neighboring rugby field, the soccer field had no bleachers or clubhouse, or provisions for other sports activities—just the space available within its bounds. In terms of utility, the municipal soccer field served the needs of the local soccer teams, at least most of the time, but symbolically—its physical condition; lack of provisions for different sports; and all the many ways in which it was accessed, maintained, and controlled—affirmed the lower-working-class status of its clientele. The rugby field was used mostly for rugby matches, and occasionally for trackand-field events, tug-of-war, and horse riding and farm games. Access to the rugby field was regulated by an ex-Model C school called Goudini High School (GHS). Despite its affiliation with the school, it also served as home ground to two local rugby clubs: the Rawsonville United Rugby Football Club (Rawsonville United), with a largely colored membership; and the Rawsonville Rugby Club (RRC), with a predominantly white membership. This field could be accessed easily via a tarred road from the main street, located next to a tennis club, in the middle-class suburban area. Floodlights, large locker rooms, a clubhouse, a dedicated space for warm-ups, a designated parking area within the premises for a small number of vehicles, and infrastructure for other sports activities—all were a part of this field. High walls and two large iron gates at the opposite ends marked its boundary. The two fields shared a wall between them, which had an opening allowing access from one field to the other. However, this opening was later closed off, coinciding with the time when the school had secured government funding for the renovation of its sports facilities, in the later part of 2012. I was also informed that there used to be a swimming pool within the premises of this sports facility, which was filled up just before the end of apartheid. Often, while watching sports activities at this field, my fellow spectators (usually colored farm workers) would point at the darker green rectangular patch of grass at one corner to share: “This used to be a swimming pool.” In addition to the aforementioned sports fields, there were additional sports facilities within the premises of the two schools in Rawsonville. The local elementary school, Rawsonville Primary, situated in the De Nova township, had one small field used for both rugby and soccer, and one netball court. The sports facilities at the primary school, as I learned, were inadequate to conduct any official sports competitions, except for netball games. Indeed, the netball court also served as home ground to a local netball club, the Roslyn Netball Club, with predominantly colored membership. In contrast, the sport infrastructure at the high school was far superior and greater in space, numbers, and sponsors, for a much smaller number of students. While members of the broader community, including the colored and black working class, were, from time to time, able to access the better-kept and better-resourced rugby field of the GHS, the terms of this access were complicated along class, race, and politics. For example, the rugby field was often hired out by different organizations, including local government, business enterprises, and nongovernmental organizations, to conduct sports events for the less privileged. The soccer field, however, was almost never booked by such

172 T. Kaur

organizations, despite the fact that it was the property of the municipality. The primary school was also allowed to use the rugby field a few times every year for its annual sports day, because the high school acknowledged the lack of sports facilities at the primary school. Beyond charitable sports-for-development activities, the local working-class people were unlikely to negotiate access to this better-kept rugby field on their own standing, without the intervention of a sympathetic white person or an influential local elite.

Accessing the sports fields Until 2007, there was only one decent sports facility in Rawsonville, the rugby field, access to which had been controlled by the GHS since 1994. At least until the early 1990s, there was another, poorly maintained sports field in De Nova for the racially segregated resident population, which served as a practice field and home ground for two rugby clubs, the Roslyn Rugby Club (established since 1954) and Green-leaves Rugby Club (established since 1972). At least from the early 1980s, there were a small number of colored rugby players who were already playing in the official rugby leagues through the RRC, a much older rugby club, established by and exclusively for white players.19 With the political transition from apartheid to democracy in the early 1990s, the black and colored rugby clubs and players were now able to access and assert their participation in the official structures independent of white sports administrators. Possibilities also opened up for access to better sports facilities, those previously reserved for exclusive use by the white population. In 1988, the two colored-run rugby clubs, Roslyn and Green-leaves, merged to form a stronger club, called Rawsonville United, to launch a strong contest in the to-be-unified rugby leagues. The story of how Rawsonville United negotiated and continued to use the previously whites-only rugby field as its practice and home ground offers important insights. The unification of sport post-1994 did not lead to the unification of Rawsonville’s two racially organized rugby clubs. Until the year 2000, Rawsonville United and RRC continued to compete within the Boland Rugby Union (BRU) structures. Boland Rugby Union, the long-standing regional governing body for rugby, was developing new strategies to bring together the racially divided rugby clubs to compete in a single racially unified league structure. While Rawsonville United has remained a rugby club with predominantly colored membership, the stronger black and colored rugby players were often incorporated into the stronger, financially sounder, and more experienced RRC. Around 2001–02, Rawsonville United went through a financial downturn, and thus did not compete in the BRU league for two years. Due to the professionalization of the sport of rugby in 1995, many amateur or lower-division rugby clubs suffered due to the loss both of their strongest players and of income from fans, who paid the gate fees.20 In 2003, in an attempt to rebuild the club, Rawsonville United entered into another merger with Rekenaarskool Boland Rugby Football Club, a club associated with Boland College, a nearby vocational college, an arrangement that lasted until 2006. By the time I was conducting fieldwork, Rawsonville United was standing on its own feet as the strongest rugby club in

A tale of two sports fields 173

the town, while RRC had broken away from BRU. Despite RRC’s having assumed the status of a social rugby club, according to which it organized its own games without affiliation to any sport governing body, Rawsonville United and RRC remained the two major rugby clubs of the rural town, using (and, at times, competing for) the same rugby field for their practices and matches, while also maintaining predominantly colored and white membership, respectively. In an interview, a white farm owner who had been a keen rugby player, and a member of RRC in the past, explained the situation concerning the two rugby clubs in Rawsonville: They never were together; the Rawsonville club [RRC] and the other is the Boland League club, on the other side [of the river]. There were a lot of black players in the white club, and we moved to the first division and a lot of outside players come and play for the first division, Rawsonville first-division club. Because of that, a lot of the colored players, that was too small or not fast enough, didn’t make it into the first team. And they said we helped you into the first team … and then a lot of them go and play for the club in De Nova [Rawsonville United]. And they [RRC management] said only the best players will play, doesn’t matter where they come from. And a lot of them [colored players] were unhappy about that.21 A sense of being discriminated against was quite pronounced among the colored population of De Nova during my engagement with them over the year. One evidence of this was the way mention of the swimming pool at the previously white sports facility would come up in random conversations. Many pointed out that the swimming pool was filled in because white people did not want to share it with them, anticipating that, at the end of apartheid, all of the whites-only communal spaces might be opened equally to everyone. Given the long history of racial organization of every sphere of life, and the greater value placed on rugby by both the colored and the white population of Rawsonville, the interactions around rugby had a symbolic and emotional significance. Whatever the criteria of selection to RRC’s division-one rugby team might have been, inclusion of white rugby players from outside over local colored rugby players was unlikely to be taken by the latter as anything other than continued racial discrimination. The exodus of colored rugby players from RRC prompted the revival of Rawsonville United. By 2006, the stronger colored rugby players, along with some influential social and political elites from the community, brought together enough members from well beyond De Nova, from the farms, as well as persuading the Cape Winelands District Municipality to be a sponsor, to re-establish Rawsonville United. Rawsonville United never used the old field in De Nova because, among other reasons, it was not up to the BRU’s official standards for league competition. Besides, by the time I was conducting fieldwork, that sports field in De Nova had been turned into an informal settlement, where the farm laborers evicted from local commercial farms were now living. Until 1993, agricultural labor was “almost entirely without legal protection.”22 The reform in farm labor laws, in turn, led to externalization and

174 T. Kaur

casualization of labor, driving off the farm laborers who had lived on farms for generations into insecure livelihoods and informal housing.23 With no recreational space left in De Nova, and no exclusive racial policies pertaining to access to sports fields, the leaders of Rawsonville United secured the rugby field across the river as a practice and home ground for the club. Over a conversation with the chairman of Rawsonville United, I learned that maintaining access to the rugby field, despite the unreasonably high usage fees and electricity bills they were charged, has been a constant battle. Although I was unable to garner more intimate details about how Rawsonville United maintained its access to the rugby field, it was clear from the way different people related to it that this field had come to have a deeper social meaning. It not only denoted continued and privileged control by whites over the sports and social spaces of the town, promoting a sense of discrimination along racial and class lines, but when accessed by the black or colored people on their own terms, it was an affirmation of their social and political standing. Given the century-long history of segregated, quantitatively and qualitatively inadequate sports facilities reserved for South Africa’s nonwhite population, access to this rugby field by Rawsonville United, a club administered by those racially classified as coloreds, had a symbolic significance.24 It was common knowledge (or at least common speculation, but for fair reasons) that in anticipation of political transition from apartheid to democracy, the municipal/community sports facilities in the whites-only areas under apartheid were either transferred to a (then) whites-only school or taken over by a private sports club managed by white administrators.25 The multiple accounts that I recorded concerning the rugby field also indicate that it was a municipal facility prior to 1994, and at some point its ownership was transferred to the high school (GHS). Still, the social meanings and emotional intensity attached to these accounts differed significantly. It was in this context that the senior manager at the local municipality’s department of Operational Services, responsible for overseeing all the open spaces in the municipality, explained: I am not sure about the details, but Rawsonville field [the rugby field] did belong to the municipality, and then it was transferred to Goudini High School. We went into great investigations there, and we found that the property deed, it is on their name, but before that it was the municipality was the owner. I don’t know what was the details of the contract, but I think, but I know it’s theirs. According to documentation, the field now belongs to them. It’s no longer our field. I don’t know how that happened. The one next to it [the soccer field] we developed now, we developed it in 2007. So, that one is ours.26 The “great investigations” were prompted by a conflict over access to the rugby field, in which the local politicians from De Nova had become involved, questioning the terms of ownership, maintenance, and control of the facility. I was told that a protest march took place in the streets of Rawsonville over this issue.

A tale of two sports fields 175

A white government official also informed me that he was called in to mediate a conflict over access to this facility. The official explained the nature and details of the conflict as a misunderstanding among the people who were denied access as being racially discriminated against. Instead, according to him, it was a matter of managing the field to its optimal usage without overburdening the sports facility. While he emphasized that the rugby field did not belong to the school but was only managed by it, in a separate conversation he went on to expound upon the generosity of the previous (apartheid) government in serving “their” people, explaining that it was not unusual for a municipality to donate its sports fields to a school for as little as two rand. Despite the ownership (or management) of the rugby field by GHS since 1994, it was maintained by the local municipality’s Operational Services until 2007, as the municipality’s senior manager quoted above confirmed; bookings and access were controlled by the school. I do not know if the school charged usage or booking fees prior to 2007, but for at least 12 years into the democracy era, the local government did cover the upkeep of a field controlled by a status group that not only draws its dominant position from past racial discrimination policies of apartheid, but continues to assert social and economic hegemony in many small towns like Rawsonville. The investigations into whom this sports facility really belonged to resulted in development of the Rawsonville Municipal Sports Field (the soccer field) and termination of the rugby field’s maintenance by the municipality in 2007. The GHS’s control over the rugby field was also explained in terms of its ability and experience in managing the facility in a professional manner, as well as its generous acceptance of “others” to access the field. The local elementary school, Rawsonville Primary, was allowed to use the field a few times a year for its annual sports days and rugby matches, on charitable terms, because the GHS recognized that Rawsonville Primary did not have a proper field of its own. Legally, access to the field was no longer determined by the race of the potential users. However, for what purposes, when, for how long, and by whom the rugby field could be used had to be approved by the governing body of the GHS. For example, a farmworker who had been a soccer player, coach, and administrator in the past, concerning whether the rugby field was used for soccer games prior to 2007 (as there were no other fields in the region maintained to official soccer standards), explained: No, no, this [rugby field] was only whites. We never play there before. And now also, you can’t play soccer there. … That’s what they say last time: worry about the grass! They don’t know what is the difference between the rugby boots and soccer boots… … Because why they don’t want other rugby or soccer [clubs] to book the field for friendly games or for a tournament. But white guys can book it for the horses! Horses can run from the Gymkhana!27 So, while Rawsonville United was able to pay its way to access the rugby field, soccer clubs were not allowed access at all. The “friendly games or … a tournament” that the farm worker–soccer enthusiast refers to above were the unofficial and

176 T. Kaur

autonomously organized games played for money or other stakes (among the most popular ways in which a large number of working-class people continue to organize and play soccer).28 Moreover, given the economic background of most soccer players and clubs in Rawsonville, it was unlikely that they would consider paying fees to use the field. A general perception among whites who were not soccer fans was that using the rugby field for soccer would damage the grass—a view elaborated on by a white sport administrator whom I interviewed. He argued that there were more soccer games played over the year than rugby, and the sports fields were not built or maintained to bear that kind of load. The running of horses on the field once or twice a year would not cause the same damage as four to six soccer games played every weekend, he explained. This kind of managerial pragmatism over the optimum use of a sports facilities, as Bale argues, is a product of the geographies and landscapes of sports “becoming increasingly rational: more artificial, less like play and more like display.”29 The spaces of sports are also situated in a place and, therefore, are a product of the social and political history of that place. Apartheid’s legacies are experienced through all forms of social spaces. Because of the ways in which combinations of race, class, and gender constructs continue to exclude a majority of the back and colored working-class people from procedural decisions on the terms by which a sports facility might be used, managerial rationality ends up serving the interests of those in positions of greater power. The case of the rugby field—the field previously reserved for Rawsonville’s white population, the field whose access continues to be controlled by the GHS’s majority-white school governing body—exemplifies the injustices built into the pragmatic management of sports facilities. Although the municipal facilities also had fees in place to book and use the soccer field, the mechanisms for charging these fees were unclear. For the official league games, the Local Football Association (LFA) booked the venue, but it was unclear whether the soccer clubs individually paid toward the field. For training purposes, individual clubs were meant to book the field directly at the municipal offices, a process that, at best, was inconsistent and often required direct negotiations with, and at times bribing of, the caretaker of the field. This dynamic not only gave the field’s caretaker a degree of power over the soccer networks, but it also contributed to antagonisms among those already with limited buying power and access to resources. From time to time, especially when the municipality’s managerial structures underwent changes, attempts were made to enforce collection of usage fees from the soccer clubs. I attended one such meeting, to which managers of all the LFA-affiliated soccer clubs in the municipality were invited, where they were informed about the fee structures and their obligations to pay these fees. While most soccer managers responded with indifference, the bettereducated, financially stable, and socially influential managers took the matter straight to the office of the mayor. For about three months in 2012, the soccer field in Rawsonville remained locked up and all LFA soccer league games were suspended. While the municipal officials I spoke to explained the closure of the field for maintenance purposes, the closure seemed to have little impact on the

A tale of two sports fields 177

local soccer clubs. Unofficial soccer games—the more popular format in which soccer is widely played—continued on makeshift soccer fields spread across the farmlands.30 The walls around the soccer and the rugby fields also proved ineffective, as they were not high enough to keep soccer-players from jumping over to practice. Given the ways in which young soccer enthusiasts would have to negotiate access to sports fields for training from authoritative and often unhelpful adults, many chose to use the fields during the time of the day when they were likely to escape the attention of the authorized users. I could not find out exactly how this matter was resolved, but three months down the line, the LFA leagues resumed play at the soccer field as normal. The ability to access and play in official LFA leagues on the official soccer field was not valued for its own sake, but for the opportunities these held out to the young soccer players aspiring to turn professional. However, there are only too many stories where rural soccer players and clubs were robbed of even those opportunities they rightly deserved. For example, a soccer club called the Rawsonville Gunners Football Club in the early days of the formation of the LFA won a regional tournament that promised them a place in a provincial competition. However, soon after their victory at this level, they were informed of a change in the rules: the provincial team was now to be selected by conducting municipalitywide trials. A playing member of this winning team explained that the favorite to win this event was a soccer club managed by one of the members of the newly formed LFA’s executive committee, whose son was the star player of that club. Given the location of the LFA offices in the politically stronger township of Zwelethemba, closer to the main administrative town of Worcester, and because there was relatively little interaction between soccer clubs from these two soccerdominant regions and the less populated farmlands, no-one had expected a soccer club from a small, insignificant town like Rawsonville to compete in, let alone win, such an event. It was for such reasons, among others, that gambling on unofficial soccer games commanded interest and significance within the marginalized locales. The popularity of such unofficial soccer games also explains why the attempts of the municipality to charge field-usage fees were treated mostly with indifference. At the end of the day, access to the soccer field had to be negotiated with the caretaker, whose loyalties, obligations, and antagonisms were exercised according to his social position and relations to and within the soccer networks. Evidently, forms of social, political, and economic stratification and hierarchy generate their own particular logic and tactics, both marginalizing and privileging without tangible or clearly definable, or even mutually agreeable, laws or rules.

Conclusion In telling a tale of two sports fields in small-town South Africa, I demonstrate how historically constructed social divides, racial and class associations with particular sports, vested interests, and interpersonal obligations and antagonisms are played out in the most mundane ways. Examining the relationship of the two sports fields

178 T. Kaur

to the universe of interested actors—local sports clubs, those who make use of the fields, those who control the terms of access, those who challenge these terms, those who are allowed access, those who are denied it, and those who sneak in and defy all terms of access—displays how triviality and significance of sports coexist. The point that deserves foregrounding, by way of conclusion, is that beyond the official competitive structures and sports policies, it is everyday social relations, ideological baggage, political contestation, identity politics, individual initiative, and buying power that determines people’s relations to and experiences of sporting spaces. As John Bale points out, “sport is a world of territoriality and hierarchies” rooted in the history, politics, economics, and geography of a place.31 Although I was unable to discover exactly some of the technical and legal details of the history of ownership of the rugby field I discussed above, my analysis of the sentiments and speculations concerning the fields reflects a much wider South African phenomenon, in which truth interrupts reconciliation, and legal and legitimated procedures interrupt ideals of social justice. As Gavin Williams shows in the context of the wine industry, the transition from apartheid to democracy particularly threatened the structures that drew their advantage through their “close links to the major white political parties.”32 The political transition prompted many such institutions to consider privatization. This resulted in long and complex legal battles in the courts of law, particularly in the context of major monopolistic structures, whose control over capital and markets was at stakes. However, where they could be conveniently maneuvered, the political and legal terms of many contracts were renegotiated shortly before the 1994 elections. In a recent blog post, attorney Wilmien Wicomb illustrates one such example in the context of land ownership: By the early 1990s, Stellenbosch municipality was the largest landowner in the area. Its land wealth stemmed in part from land awarded to municipalities by the U.K. Crown in the nineteenth century, to be used for the development of the (white) community, and in part from the systematic confiscation of land owned by black communities during the course of the twentieth century. Shortly before the 1994 elections, the municipality (like others at the time) entered into a long-term lease with commercial farmers in the area for thousands of its state-owned hectares, “safeguarding” the land from the equitable redistribution that was surely on the cards.33 The rationality behind the effort to maintain the rugby field at its optimal usage level resonates with Wicomb’s argument for the long-term leases handed out to white commercial farmers, in order to “safeguard” property “from the equitable redistribution.” The example of the swimming pool, which was filled in just before the end of apartheid, and how this story made the rounds in many conversations about the sports field, further provides evidence of the “safeguarding” that served as a governing logic for control over access to social and sporting spaces. The continuation of control over access to the rugby field by a close-knit status group, under the auspices of the high

A tale of two sports fields 179

school, also shows the ways in which social domination and racial separation were preserved in guarding against the degradation of sports facilities. However, boundaries are limited. The conditions for exclusion are as much the conditions for inclusion, as shown in the case of Rawsonville United, which was able to legitimately access the rugby field despite the discriminatory terms and conditions. Still, for those unable to buy access to sports at the market or asking price, an altogether different set of rules and relationships had to be negotiated to access sports and sports fields. This included building and maintaining relationships through either elaborate expressions of gratitude or aggressive protests—or even sneaky intrusions. It is in engaging with the sites of sports that neither receive attention nor have much at stake that I present and examine the micropolitics and social processes of organization of life. The historical and social constructions of class and race continue to arrange and divide South Africa’s rural population in complex ways. Attending closely to the seemingly apolitical and mundane spheres of life can expose how the layers of experiences and performances of socially constructed hierarchies and marginalities are played out.

Notes 1 Douglas Booth, The Race Game: Sport and Politics in South Africa, vol. 4 (New York: Routledge, 1998); Robert Archer and Antoine Bouillon, The South African Game: Sport and Racism, Africa Series (London: Zed Press, 1982); Peter Alegi, Laduma!: Soccer, Politics and Society in South Africa (Scottsville, SA: University of KwaZulu-Natal Press, 2004); Grant Jarvie, Class, Race, and Sport in South Africa’s Political Economy (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1985); Albert Grundlingh, André Odendaal, and Burridge Spies, Beyond the Tryline: Rugby and South African Society (Johannesburg: Ravan Press, 1995); André Odendaal, The Story of an African Game (Claremont, SA: David Philip, 2003); Christopher Merrett, Colin Tatz, and Daryl Adair, “History and Its Racial Legacies: Quotas in South African Rugby and Cricket,” Sport in Society 14, no. 6 (2011): 754–77. 2 Richard Lyness Watson, Slave Emancipation and Racial Attitudes in Nineteenth-Century South Africa (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012). 3 John Bale, Sports Geography (London: Routledge, 2003); John Bale, Landscapes of Modern Sport (London: Leicester University Press, 1994); John Bale, Sport, Space and the City (London: Routledge, 1993); Patricia Vertinsky and John Bale, eds., Sites of Sport: Space, Place, Experience (London: Routledge, 2004); John Bale, “Parks and Garden: Metaphors for the Modern Places of Sport,” in Leisure/Tourism Geographies: Practices and Geographical Knowledge, Critical Geographies, ed. D. Crouch (London: Routledge, 1999), 46–58. 4 Bale, Sports Geography, 2. 5 Victor Turner, “Carnival in Rio: Dionysian Drama in an Industrializing Society,” in The Celebration of Society: Perspectives on Contemporary Cultural Performance, ed. F.E. Manning (Bowling Green: Bowling Green University Popular Press, 1983), 104. 6 Bale, Landscapes of Modern Sport; John Bale and Patricia Vertinsky, “Introduction,” in Sites of Sport: Space, Place, Experience, ed. P. Vertinsky and J. Bale (London: Routledge, 2004); Bale, Sports Geography, 2. 7 Caroline Fusco, “Cultural Landscapes of Purification: Sports Spaces and Discourses of Whiteness,” Sociology of Sport Journal 22 (2005): 286. 8 Booth, Race Game. 9 Merrett, Tatz, and Adair, “History and Its Racial Legacies.” 10 Archer and Bouillon, South African Game.

180 T. Kaur

11 Albert Grundlingh, “Playing for Power? Rugby, Afrikaner Nationalism and Masculinity in South Africa, c. 1900–70,” International Journal of the History of Sport 11, no. 3 (1994): 408–30; Albert Grundlingh, Potent Pastimes: Sport and Leisure Practices in Modern Afrikaner History (Pretoria: Protea Boekhuis, 2014). 12 Alegi, Laduma!; Archer and Bouillon, South African Game. 13 For particularities and complexities of colored identity in South Africa, see Zimitri Erasmus, Coloured by History, Shaped by Place: New Perspectives on Coloured Identities in Cape Town (Cape Town: Kwela Books, 2001). 14 Archer and Bouillon, South African Game; Booth, Race Game. 15 Archer and Bouillon, South African Game, 98. 16 Adam Ashforth, Witchcraft, Violence, and Democracy in South Africa (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005), 23. 17 Robin Cohen, Endgame in South Africa?: The Changing Structures and Ideology of Apartheid (London: J. Currey; UNESCO Press, 1986). 18 The maintenance and control of the field was later moved from Operational Services to Public Safety and Community Development Services due to departmental restructuring, which had ramifications, particularly, for the smaller/poorer soccer clubs (details of which are discussed later in the chapter). 19 Albert Grundlingh et al., Beyond the tryline. 20 Ibid; Albert Grundlingh, personal communication, 2018. 21 Extract from an interview recorded with a white farmer, South Africa, August 2012. 22 Andries du Toit, “Paternalism and Modernity in South African Wine and Fruit Farms” (PhD thesis, University of Essex, 1995), 4. 23 Andries du Toit and Fadeela Ally, The Externalization and Casualisation of Farm Labour in the Western Cape (Bellville, SA: PLAAS/CRLS, 2004). https://ageconsearch.umn.edu/ record/30686/files/cr040107.pdf. 24 Booth, Race Game. 25 In an exchange I had with a colored rugby coach/schoolteacher from De Doorns (a rural town about 40 km north of Rawsonville), he explained that “around 1994, many public sports facilities in the region were transferred over to the previously whites-only schools at very low or no cost at all. Now, the access to such sport fields was restricted by high rentals” (Author’s field notes, July 3, 2012). 26 Interview with a municipal officer, South Africa, February 2013. 27 Interview with a farmworker, South Africa, January 2013. 28 Tarminder Kaur, The Gambling Games: Under-the-Radar, ‘Unofficial’ and Mass-Participation Soccer of South Africa (paper presented at North Eastern Workshop on Southern Africa, Burlington, Vermont, USA. 6th to 8th October 2017). 29 Bale, Sports Geography, 4; Bale and Vertinsky, “Introduction.” 30 Kaur, The Gambling Games. 31 Bale, Sports Geography, 2. 32 Gavin Williams, “Black Economic Empowerment in the South African Wine Industry,” Journal of Agrarian Change 5, no. 4 (2005): 478. 33 Wilmien Wicomb, “This Black Farmer’s Story Exposes the Nightmare That Is Land Reform,” HuffPost (Zimbabwe ed., blog), March 9, 2018, https://www.huffingtonpost. co.za/wilmien-wicomb/a-land-reform-tragedy-thats-on-all-of-us_a_23380342.

12 THE BULLDOG, THE PHARAOH, AND THE FOOTBALL British imperialism and Egypt’s national sport and identity, 1882–1934 Christopher Ferraro

“Oh, that’s the Head Boy of the School, and Captain of the First Eleven,” he answered; “a very nice chap, and plays soccer awfully well; his name is Amin Osman.” “He’s a Moslem, then?” I commented in some surprise. “Oh, yes, but Good Lord, nobody takes any notice of that here. We’re all just Victorians.” One obviously didn’t—an Egyptian Moslem Head of the School and Captain of the XI [football team]! It was indeed a new world I was living in.1

Introduction This epigraph, from an Arab student attending the British-run Victoria College in Egypt toward the end of World War I, raises several crucial questions about what it meant to be an Egyptian at this time. Educated Egyptian elites had come to see themselves as Victorians: they quoted Shakespeare, saluted the Queen, and took part in vigorous British sports. The development of this sense of identity among the educated classes had taken just a little over three decades and encompassed some great changes. Rather than identifying as Egyptian, Ottoman, or even Muslim, this student displays his identity as Victorian, and this was imbued in him though sports, football in particular, beginning with the Anglo–Egyptian War in 1882. This transformation did not occur to the same degree at all levels of society. Much of the working class developed a strong sense of nationalism through football playing both alongside, and eventually against, the British occupiers at school and in the army. Regardless of the extent of the change, the sport of football, and to a lesser degree cricket and other sports, played a major role in shaping not only Egyptian identity, but also the development of nationalist feelings and anticolonial movements. This alteration to Egyptian identity came to a head shortly after World War I.

182 C. Ferraro

July 5, 1921, was a rather ordinary day in the life of the British Empire. There were no major conflicts, the horrors of the Great War were beginning to fade, and life was returning to normal after many years of conflict. However, the beginnings of nationalist rumblings had already occurred in Egypt. Major protests, due in part to the impact of the total war economy, had led to London granting Egypt’s new status as a protectorate, and this action only fueled talk of independence within the country. But on this date Egyptians received their first solid proof that they could stand on their own against British imperialism and perhaps could consider themselves as equals: Al-Mukhtalat Football Club (Zamalek Soccer Club today) defeated the British Regimental Army team Sherwood in the Sultan Hussein Cup by a score of 2–1. This was the first time a team composed solely of Egyptian players had managed to defeat the British at their own sport in this very public and prestigious tournament, and it was a major point of pride for the local population.2 The victory by Al-Mukhtalat marked the entry of Egypt onto the world football stage and was seen by many Egyptians as an affirmation of equality between themselves and their British overlords after three-plus decades of occupation. Just 13 months earlier, a young Egyptian team made history by becoming the first non-European and first African team to qualify for the Olympic Games.3 The Pharaohs, as the Egyptian national team was known, faced a formidable opponent when they took on Italy on August 28 at La Gantoise Stadium in Ghent. The Egyptians managed to keep the game tied until the 57th minute but eventually lost the match.4 Six days later, at the Stedelijk Olympisch in Antwerp, the Egyptians made history again in front of a small crowd of 500 in the eighth-place consolation match. In a 4–2 victory over Yugoslavia, the Egyptians became the first team from Africa to defeat a European team in a sanctioned international game. Hussein Hegazi proved his skills by scoring a goal, and Sayed Abaza narrowly missed becoming the first player from Africa to score a hat trick in the international tournament.5 The early international success of the Pharaohs illustrates just how proficient the Egyptian players had become. This moment was not lost on the players, managers, and owners of club teams back home; one year later, the Egyptian Football Association was created.6 In the 1924 Olympic Games held in Paris, the Pharaohs showed that their victory four years early had not been a fluke. The Egyptians defeated Hungary 3–0 before falling to Sweden in the semifinals.7 Hegazi again showed his skill, scoring one goal in the victory in what would be his last international appearance.

Egyptian National Team As Table 12.1 indicates, the game of football had reached a critical point in Egypt; the country now seemed to have reached the next level and appeared capable of taking on established European teams. In the half-century since the Anglo–Egyptian War, football had developed from a foreign game played by British soldiers to a mandatory part of the school curriculum and a significant part of everyday life. Victories over Turkey and Portugal at the 1928 Olympics confirmed that the Pharaohs were highly skilled,

The bulldog, the pharaoh, and the football 183

TABLE 12.1 Fortunes of the Egyptian National Team

Year

Tournament

Results

1920

Olympic Games

1924 1928

Olympic Games Olympic Games

1934

World Cup

First African team; defeated Yugoslavia 8th place (of 14) Defeated Hungary 3–0; lost semifinals Defeated Turkey 7–1 Defeated Portugal 2–1 Lost to Argentina 0–6 Semifinals (top-four finish) First African team; lost to Austria 1–3

while the loss to Argentina denoted a country that still had a long way to go. However, the Egyptians finished in the top four of the Olympic tournament that year, ahead of teams from Belgium, Spain, Germany, Switzerland, France, and Mexico, among others. The second-ever World Cup took place in Italy in 1934. Of the 16 open slots for the tournament, 12 were allotted to Europe, three to the Americas, and just one was set aside for Asia and/or Africa; this last slot was won by Egypt.8 In this tournament Egypt got to play against some of the very best European players when the national team met Hungary in Naples on May 27, a game Egypt lost 4–2.9 Egypt would not qualify for the World Cup again until 1994. Several members of the Egyptian team were now playing at the highest level. Mahmoud Mokhtar Refee (known as “El-Tetsch”) had a significant role in the success of the Egyptian team at this time. Mokhtar was a key member of the 1928 Olympic team, for which he scored four goals and which he led to its best-ever finish, fourth place. In that tournament Mokhtar logged a hat trick against Turkey, in what was the best international game of his career. Another key member of the Egyptian national team during this era was Mustafa Kamel Mansour. The nation’s best goalkeeper, Mansour later earned the nickname “The Flying Egyptian” for his athletic style and leaping abilities. Mansour’s skills were such that he played on Egypt’s 1936 Olympic team as well.10 Mansour played so well against the mainly European international competition that he was invited to Scotland, where he could pursue a degree at Jordan Hill Training College and also play for the Queen’s Park Football Club. Queen’s Park was a top-level team at that time. Quickly rising to the starting goalie spot, Mansour led the team to the Glasgow Cup championship in 1938 and earned his nickname. However, he did so as an amateur, refusing the £5,000 contract in order to play for free. Both of these men and their teammates had one thing in common: they had learned the game in school under British occupation.

Royal Engineers Association Football Club (AFC): The Sappers To understand how football came to Egypt, it is necessary to examine the organization of the British army that brought it with them: the Royal Engineers (REs). In an army

184 C. Ferraro

that was becoming more technologically advanced, the REs, perhaps more so than any other branch of the British Armed Forces, found its ranks filled by some of the most technically skilled officers and competent enlisted men. The types of tasks the Engineers were being asked to perform in the mid-nineteenth century ranged from bridge building, to railroad construction and operations, to telegraph setup and submarine defenses.11 Nearly all soldiers assigned to the REs had been educated to a certain degree and had grown up playing football at one level or another in school or church. The officers assigned to command these units all had engineering degrees or an equivalent certification and had attended the major universities, public schools, or military academies of Britain, where they had been imbued with the concepts of muscular Christianity, fair play, and the rigors and discipline that team sports were believed to develop.12 So good were the Sappers that in 1863 they became one of the first teams to join the Football Association (FA).13 From 1872 to 1878, the REs’ training regiment football team played in four FA Cup championship games, claiming the ultimate prize, the FA Cup, in 1875.14 Of these four Sapper teams, eight men took part in two of the finals, and Captain William Merriman alone played in three of the games.15 Of the 37 Engineers who participated in these games, 11 eventually served in Egypt during the Anglo–Egyptian War, the Sudan conflict, or the occupation. The presence of these men in Egypt, and others like them in the decades that followed, would play an important role in the transmission of the sport of football to that country and would influence the way Egyptians saw themselves. So many units in the British army were playing football by the late nineteenth century, and so popular was the sport, that its headquarters created the Army Football Association (AFA) in 1888, to coordinate and organize a regular schedule of matches at the regimental level throughout the army each year.16 By 1914, the sport had grown to such an extent that 93 regimental teams took part in the AFA Cup tournament.17 The Service Battalion of the REs also won the AFA Cup.18 The army was not the only branch of the armed forces taking football seriously.19 By 1906, the Royal Navy Football Association recorded 180 naval football teams between ships and port bases; while this is an impressive number, it was a far cry from the army’s 578 registered teams at that time.20 This military was about to make its presence felt in Egypt.

War By the late nineteenth century, Egypt had become strategically important to the functioning of the British Empire. The Suez Canal provided a vital trade link between Europe and Asia.21 Egypt had also become an important telegraphic connection to India, which had a direct impact on tea and spice markets.22 A rather large debt run up by Khedive Muhammad Ali’s government through European banks, coupled with a military uprising within the Egyptian army in 1882, gave London ample reason to invade the country in order to protect British interests, thus beginning the Anglo–Egyptian War.23 This conflict would bring

The bulldog, the pharaoh, and the football 185

25,556 soldiers into Egypt, including six companies of REs.24 The conflict itself was prosecuted quickly, taking just under two months of actual fighting, but Britain was now firmly involved in the running of Khedive’s government and finances. The British were forced to leave a substantial occupation force behind to ensure the peace and train up a new, loyal Egyptian army.

A new Egyptian army and identity British commitments to Egypt following the war in 1882 meant that a significant military presence would have to be kept in the country. The Royal Army maintained an occupation force of 5,000 men in Egypt for the first few years, with regiments stationed in Cairo and Alexandria.25 Eager to reduce their military commitment and gain local help, British authorities soon authorized the training of Egyptian soldiers to aid in the occupation. Field Marshal Evelyn Wood was given the task of training the new Egyptian military. Additionally, 25 British army officers were seconded to the Egyptian army to aid in this effort.26 This contingent of senior officers, assisted by a corps of noncommissioned officers, began training the army soon after the war.27 In addition to being instructed in modern, Western military tactics, the Egyptians were also encouraged to play football, first against other Egyptian army teams and later against Royal Army teams. In their down time, British army officers were keen to organize sporting tournaments, particularly involving football, to keep the men busy, fit, and out of trouble. Sports such as football were also considered important team-building and training tools in the army. British army officers thus organized games involving the new Egyptian army with similar goals. Over the next two years, the Egyptian army would be reformed on this British model, and the soldiers within it would begin to see themselves differently. The Egyptian infantry was reorganized into 18 battalions, six of which were made up of Sudanese soldiers. Cavalry and artillery headquarters were set up at Cairo, while a railway battalion, camel corps, medical staff, telegraph department, and military school were all developed by 1898.28 An uprising by Mahdist forces in Egyptian-controlled Sudan in 1884 led to a second, longer conflict in the country.29 A total of eight REs who participated in the FA Cup would serve in Egypt during this time.30 Most of the REs did not see combat but rather organized the railroad support effort.31 The war in the Sudan took place just two years after the British had defeated certain segments of the Egyptian army. However, because of the reorganization and new training employed by the British, nearly 3,000 Egyptian soldiers fought alongside their former enemies in this conflict.32 The end of the Mahdist uprising in 1885 meant that daily life in this large British military force in Egypt took on a different tone. Soldiers typically went about their work in the early morning hours and then took a long break during the hottest part of the day. The late afternoon hours, when the temperature was more forgiving, were devoted to team sports, as much in the hope of keeping idle soldiers

186 C. Ferraro

busy as for the purpose of team building. The cultural effects of British regimental football teams playing games and tournaments in the major cities of Egypt were seen rather quickly. The Khedevich Secondary School in Cairo formed a football team in 1891 under the guidance of several English advisers. Soon thereafter, Egyptian military cadets at Abbasyich College, under British tutelage, formed a team that quickly became one of the best in the country.33 The Agricultural College in Cairo also formed a team, and by 1899 was good enough to play the regimental team from the First Cameron Highlanders to a 1–1 draw, a rather stunning result as football had only been played in Egypt for fewer than 20 years.34

Educating Egypt There were a great many changes made in Egypt once the British took control of the country. First and perhaps foremost, many direct alterations were made to the education system.35 American, British, and French expatriates working in Egypt since before the war had created many schools for their children so that they could obtain a Western-style education while their parents worked abroad.36 In some cases such schools served as models for wealthy Egyptians who wanted their sons to obtain a similar education. Prior to the occupation in 1882, there were 270 government primary schools in Egypt as well as 200 European schools of various types.37 Over the next four decades, these schools would come to resemble British schools. The British colonial administrator, Douglas Dunlop, was given the post of inspector general in the late 1880s. From this position he wielded considerable influence over education and worked with local leaders to create schools for Egyptian children on the English model. As a result of his work, several new schools were opened in 1888 that added physical education to the curriculum, something that many Europeans felt was lacking from traditional Egyptian education. In addition to studying Western subjects and languages, Egyptian schoolboys also learned British football and cricket. One British official named Fraser Rae, who observed this development, saw it as a unique event: The greatest innovation in the Egyptian national schools is but a year old; this consists in making outdoor games a part of the pupil’s instruction time… For an Egyptian lad to play … football or cricket … was an unknown sensation until Mr. Dunlop… Lads who were regarded as too listless to engage in physical exercise have developed a marked liking for the game.38 While Fraser Rae’s comments lack the condescending attitude of many contemporary imperialists, there is a clear air of ethnocentrism and pride in his description of “listless” Egyptians who were now beginning to improve due to the help of the British. He continued, “Mr. Dunlop had the courage and foresight to try the experiment… [Now] Egyptian boys resembled those of other nations … ready to engage in muscular exercises as any healthy boys in civilized countries.”39

The bulldog, the pharaoh, and the football 187

The addition of physical education and British sports soon had a visible influence. The children of well-off Egyptian parents began attending British-style schools, learning English, and playing football. In less than a generation, a group of Egyptian young people were developing a very different sense of the world, a cosmopolitan outlook and physical skills that their elders did not possess. As these youths came of age, many of them took the next step and went to England to continue their studies. In 1887, a group of five Egyptian university students went to England to study such topics as telegraphy, engineering, and the law, the first of many who would follow in the coming decades.40 Attending university in England at this time meant a worldly, Western-style education complete with physical contests such as rugby, cricket, and football. Cambridge University was perhaps the best of higher education in England at the time. While boasting a world-class curriculum and renowned faculty, the school also had dozens of sporting teams and clubs. The university calendar for 1896–97 lists nearly 20 football matches and another 20 rugby matches for that school year.41 Egyptian students, already educated in the British style, would be further influenced by their experience at Cambridge and, upon returning home to positions of prominence, would bring this experience with them. It should be noted that such changes as those mentioned above did not have an immediate impact on a very large segment of Egyptian society, for a variety of reasons. Education was by no means universal at that time. There were only three governmental secondary schools by 1893, and by 1913 there were only 2,500 students enrolled at these institutions.42 While the number of students was small, many of them would go on to hold prominent positions throughout the country and would be in a unique position to spread the culture they had assimilated.

Learning culture Then here’s a cheer for Tawfiqiyya, The school for work and play. We get to the top and there we play, With a hip, hip hurray.43

The song of Tawfiqiyya School is similar to fight songs at British primary schools in this era and as such reflects the influence British school administrators were already having on Egypt by the end of the century. Donald Reid undertook a comprehensive study of Egyptian schools at the turn of the century and found many changes by this point. His analysis of the three major secondary schools in the country—Tawfiqiyya, Khidiwiyya, and Ra’s al-Tin—provides great insight into how the occupation was influencing Egyptian culture. Additionally, some of the best and brightest minds in Egypt would be educated at these schools. Khidiwiyya alumni would include noted journalist and nationalist Mustafa Kamil, anti-colonialist Ahmad Lutfi al-Sayyid, and jurist Abd al-Aziz Fhmi. Prime Minister Mahmoud Nuqrashi and Gamal Abd alNasser studied at Ra’s al-Tin.44 These three institutions were all created in 1863 and

188 C. Ferraro

thus pre-dated the occupation; however, all three were soon dominated by European masters who introduced football along with other sports. By the 1890s, colonial administrators were already recruiting graduates of these schools for work in colonial administrative posts, and this produced a change in trends within Egypt’s elite. Affluent parents who could afford to do so began to send their children to the British-run schools in hopes of their being able to secure a good job after graduation.45 Lord Cromer, then the British consul for Egypt, backed the founding of Victoria College in Alexandria in 1901. This institution was modeled on British public school lines, similar to Eton and Harrow. Victoria College seemed to draw from the best of Egypt’s elite, and many of its graduates went on to study at Oxford.46 One student, Edward Atityah, who attended Victoria in Alexandria at this time, became clearly enamored of it. “How could it [American University] compete with a school where the masters came from Oxford and Cambridge, where the boys took Oxford and Cambridge certificates, a school described in the prospectus as being ‘on public school lines,’ that is to say like Eton and Harrow.” However, it was not just the Western education he would be receiving that attracted him. “Large, stately buildings, boys playing football. I saw myself among them—captain perhaps—scoring, amidst cheers, a brilliant goal.”47 Egyptian leaders were quick to follow the British lead in education and collaborated on the creation of Tewfikieh College of Agriculture, which specialized not only in agriculture, but in land and water management unique to Egypt. The college was led by British agronomist Williamson Wallace and instructed students in 12 subjects covering all aspects of farming and agriculture. While only 59 students were admitted the first year, the college’s enrollment quickly began to grow. It is unclear if football was part of the official curriculum, but students certainly were playing the sport in their off time.48 Educational reform extended to the far reaches of Egypt. Sudan, which had been considered a territory of Egypt and had been under Egyptian control since the early nineteenth century, was also a target of this effort. British administrators opened Gordon Memorial College in Khartoum in 1902 and would maintain direct control over it and its curriculum until Sudan’s independence. In addition to teaching Western university subjects, the school also hosted training for artisans and technicians and served for a time as the Khartoum Military Academy, which provided soldiers for the Egyptian Army in the Sudan.49 British personnel who worked at Gordon College referred to it as “Winchester by the Nile” or “Eton of the Sudan”—and with good cause. This school replicated those namesakes in nearly every way. The governor-general of the Sudan, Sir Francis Reginald Wingate, saw its purpose as “engendering the English public school code of honor amongst the youth of the country.”50 Historian Heather Sharkey notes that sports and social activities took up nearly as much of the students’ time as their classwork did. Classes at Gordon typically ended at 1 p.m.; afternoon hours were regimented with team sports and physical training, with football being the most popular winter sport.

The bulldog, the pharaoh, and the football 189

Gordon graduates continued to play football long after graduation, while serving in various governmental departments and playing on their respective teams similar to their British counterparts. There was no shortage of competition for these departmental teams as the game had been introduced to the Sudanese army, police, and missionary schools.51 The sports of football and cricket had become so well established by the end of the nineteenth century that the popular travel agency Thomas Cook & Son devoted a small section of its tourists’ guide to Egypt to naming the various gentlemen’s clubs that had developed in the major cities, where visitors could play the sport of their choosing while on vacation for a modest £2 fee.52 Large British social clubs, such as the Turf Club, Khedivial Sporting Club, and Ghezireh Sporting Club, were formed by expatriates. Many of their members were high-ranking military officers and colonial officials. At least 13 such clubs were in existence by the turn of the twentieth century.53 These clubs engaged in annual tournaments against each other in most sports. Social clubs played an important part in the transmission of the sport of football because of their ability to spread the game outside of schools by way of those working at the clubs. Many clubs allowed for “servants’ teams” comprised of local Egyptians to play against other clubs in these annual tournaments, and saw such events as a point of pride. The upswell in football’s popularity in Egypt at the end of the 1880s was tied to the large British army presence in the country. Though regimental teams did, on occasion, play against Egyptian schools and army teams, far more frequently they played against other regiments. The British occupation forces in Egypt played a fixed schedule every year that culminated in various cup tournaments that were well attended and publicized. Typically, commanding officers as well as hundreds of rank-and-file soldiers from nearby units were attracted to such events. By 1897, many other teams besides the Sappers were showing their mettle; the final of the interregimental football tournament that year was won by the First Battalion North Staffordshire Regiment over the Twenty-first Hussars by a score of six goals to nil.54 Records indicate that RE Sapper teams were no longer the best in the country, since they were seldom a factor in high-profile tournaments.55 At the turn of the century, the Egyptian military school that produced most of the country’s officers was also showing the effects of the occupation. Various separate pre-existing military schools were reorganized by the British after 1882 into one major college. The school’s curriculum and physical training was brought into line with British military schools, with impressive results; the officers now resembled their occupiers in many ways. The cadets rose at dawn, fell in for parade at 6:45, and had breakfast at 8:00 a.m. They attended class until noon, had a break for lunch, and then late-afternoon parade at 4:45 p.m. This schedule was altered two afternoons each week for football, which replaced the afternoon parade. In addition, on Thursday afternoons the cadet team usually played a game against a regimental team from the occupation force. By 1902, the cadets were just as likely to beat a regular British army team as to lose to it.56 Even so, Egyptians teams were not yet allowed to compete in the biggest tournaments, but that would soon change.

190 C. Ferraro

Critical mass At the turn of the twentieth century, Egypt held a unique place in the world and the British Empire. The occupation of the country was nearly 20 years on, and with growing traffic through the Suez Canal maintaining a vital trade link with India, it did not seem as if the British would be leaving anytime soon. Students educated in British schools, who had no memory of Egypt without the British presence, were now reaching adulthood. The nation was at a crossroads. Egyptians were experiencing the world as a fully integrated part of the British Empire. Many students had acquired a different worldview and self-concept as a result of the occupation, and the transmission of British culture had reached a critical mass from which many new developments would now take place essentially on their own, without direct action by local colonial administrators. This critical mass can be seen in the development of Egyptian football teams outside of British-controlled schools and the military. The earliest football teams for which Egyptians played owe much to the British and European presence in the country at the time. The oldest team, Al-Sekka AlHadid, still plays today in the Second Division of Egypt’s professional league. Its nickname, Egypt Railways Club, speaks to the origin of the team, which was initially made up of British and Italian railway laborers. Records from this era are incomplete, but there are indications that Egyptian workers were playing for the club within a decade of its inception. Football clubs associated with factory or industrial labor such as Al-Sekka Al-Hadid were quite common in England in the late nineteenth century, and dozens of such clubs existed throughout the empire. The first team to be made up entirely of Egyptians outside of the military was Al-Ahly, or The National. The organization was formed as a social club during a time of rising nationalist tensions and anticolonial student protests in the country. The team was founded by European Mitchel Ince along with several wealthy Egyptian investors including Omar Sultan Pasha and Ameen Samy.57 These investors created the club as a private institution and hoped that it would provide a place for nationalist-minded Egyptian students to meet without fear of being seen by the British as an independence movement or advocacy group. Football provided both a cover and an outlet for the students. The growing popularity of Al-Ahly as a social club soon prompted the establishment of what would become the team’s biggest rival, the Zamalek Sporting Club, in 1911, by the Belgian lawyer Georges Merzbach.58 The club was initially named

TABLE 12.2 Egyptian football teams

Team

Established

Affiliation

Al-Sekka Al-Hadid (Egypt Railways Club) Al-Ahly (The National) Zamalek Sporting Club

1903

industrial/rail workers

1907 1911

student union social club

The bulldog, the pharaoh, and the football 191

Mokhtalat, “The Mixed Club”, because it allowed both European and Egyptian membership. Clubs like Zamalek reflected the growing number of Western-educated Egyptians who were denied membership in the many Europeans-only clubs that were frequented by colonial administrators and European industrialists. Such clubs were the unintended by-product of British control of the education system as well as segregationist policies with regard to club membership. The British-run schools and newly formed Egyptian social and football clubs were beginning to turn out talented amateur football players. Similarly to men who grew up in Britain, these players had taken part in the sport at every phase of their education. One such player, Hussein Hegazi, was about to prove just how far the game had developed in Egypt. Born in 1891, Hegazi grew up during the occupation. He learned the game of football while in primary school and excelled while playing at the British-run El-Saideya secondary school.59 After his initial schooling, Hegazi played for various informal club teams against British army teams until 1911, when he went to England to study engineering at University College London. Hegazi’s football skills were so good that he was noticed by the Dulwich Hamlet Football Club, which signed him to a contract later that year. Dulwich was a minor semi-professional team at the time, that played in various leagues below the Football Association and Football League.60 Hegazi proved himself to be a prolific scorer against the lowerdivision competition, and the novelty of having an Egyptian player on the team soon brought large crowds to Dulwich’s games. Local newspapers described his play as brilliant and referred to him as the “shining light of the game.”61 His skills soon earned Hegazi a chance to play for Fulham, a second-division team. He scored in his first and only match for Fulham. With the outbreak of World War I, Hegazi returned to Egypt, where he earned a living by forming his own football teams and challenging British army teams to games for money.62 Due to the large number of British and colonial soldiers in the country, Hegazi found no shortage of competition. Perhaps the best Egyptian footballer of his generation, Hegazi represented his nation in two Olympic Games before retiring in 1931.63 Hegazi’s skills, ability, and career were essentially a product of the occupation. Hegazi and his contemporaries were part of the second generation. They had no memory of life before the British, they were educated in Egyptian schools with British curriculum, learned football as a matter of course, and had developed into a new type of Egyptian as a result. Hegazi and other Egyptians like him now spoke the international language of football and were able to compete with some of the very best in the world. British culture had so thoroughly permeated Egypt by this point that men like Hegazi may well have been unrecognizable as Egyptians to their recent ancestors.

War and football To defend Egypt’s strategic location, approximately 70,000 British and colonial troops were stationed in the country by the end of 1915 and would remain throughout the war.64 These troops were supporting a force of 220,000 soldiers

192 C. Ferraro

serving in Mesopotamia.65 Records indicate that football was being played regularly by the occupation forces. A force of this size sends thousands of dispatches, but one communication in particular stands out. On February 9, 1917, the commanding officer in Cairo, Lt. Col. Pierce Charles Joyce, sent an official army message requesting footballs and extra bladders for his troops stationed in the country.66 Such a request was not out of the ordinary. Troops in Egypt played a support role in the war and spent much of their down time engaged in football. Soon after the war, anticolonial protests developed when a group of Egyptians was detained and not allowed to advocate for a seat at the Paris Peace Conference in 1919. This group would later be known as the Wafd political party. What started as generally peaceful protests by the Egyptian population quickly morphed into acts of sabotage and culminated with the cutting of rail lines and stealing of food shipments and attacks on British military installations.67 Widespread student and worker strikes paralyzed the country and went on for eight weeks in 1919, turning into a revolution of sorts. As the young Edward Atityah noted: I was amazed. Egypt had risen; The Egyptians whom I had learned to imagine as a submissive people … had at last revolted… But my sympathies, in spite of my friendships with Egyptian boys, were not with the revolution… I did not really identify my Egyptian friends at school with this unattractive rabble shouting in the streets. My Egyptian friends were, like me, civilized boys. They discoursed on English history and quoted Shakespeare … Their sympathies were to a certain extent with the revolution, but their allegiance was divided.68 Atityah highlights how much Egypt and its people had changed. On the one hand, the masses had developed a strong nationalist sense partially due to the lessons learned through football and education over the decades-long occupation. Educated elites, however, were now straddling two worlds, and football was now giving all Egyptians reason to believe that they could stand against the British. It was against this backdrop of protests and rising anticolonial sentiment that football became an important symbol of nationalism. In the 1921–22 season, Al-Mukhtalat Football Club struck a major blow for Egyptian pride by defeating a British regimental team to win the Sultan Hussein Cup, the most prestigious and highest-level competition in the country at the time. Hussein Hegazi’s presence in this game is representative of generational change. He is perhaps the best example of a generation that grew up under the occupation, learned football and its life lessons, and had now come of age in a decisive victory against the occupier. A long period of negotiations and protests ensued after which Egyptians eventually received a new Western-style constitution in 1922.69

The bulldog, the pharaoh, and the football 193

Political football Football in Egypt has always had political connotations to it. Initially, it was a foreign game brought by an occupying army, but it did not stay that way for very long. Egypt’s new overlords, the British, were willing to teach the locals how to play the game. The British believed football, and similar sports, had helped to forge them as men and played a key role in teaching the lessons of life. Such lessons were critical to the foundation of a strong civilization and empire. Like proud parents, the British, their army, colonial leaders, missionaries, and educators were happy to introduce football to the locals. For the better part of two decades, the Egyptians learned and their skills grew. A few dared to dream that it would be possible to beat the occupiers at their own game, while many in the country began to yearn for independence. While outright war against the British was not possible, victory on the football pitch appeared to be within reach. When a win for the Egyptians on the football field finally came, it was filled with political connotations and occurred at a time of rising nationalist tensions. This victory came just one year after Egyptian protests had led to a new constitution and to the British ending the country’s status as a protectorate. The British could be beat, it appeared, both on the field and off. The lessons of football had been absorbed. In a little less than four decades, Egypt had become a presence on the world stage. Egyptians had learned football, played it at the highest levels in the Olympics and in the World Cup, and had proven they could defeat the British at their own game. This victory coincided with a burgeoning nationalism brought on in part by the competition that developed on the football pitch. The game brought nationalist pride and anti-colonial sentiment to the masses. Victory on the field affirmed Egyptians’ equality with the British, and in no small way it contributed to the success of the revolution and the country’s new status.

Notes 1 Edward Atityah, An Arab Tells His Story: A Study in Loyalties (London: Butler & Tanner, 1946), 54. 2 “When Life Began,” Al-Ahram Weekly, 2004, accessed August 17, 2015, http://weekly. ahram.org.eg/2004/677/sp5.htm. 3 FIFA, Olympic Football Tournament Antwerp 1920, Overview, “Antwerp, 1920,” 2012, accessed March 1, 2015, http://www.fifa.com/tournaments/archive/mensolymp ic/antwerp1920/index.html. 4 FIFA, Olympic Football Tournament Antwerp 1920, Matches, Italy–Egypt [FIFA Records], accessed March 1, 2015, http://www.fifa.com/tournaments/archive/menso lympic/antwerp1920/matches/round=197010/match=32276/index.html. 5 FIFA, Olympic Football Tournament Antwerp 1920, Matches, Yugoslavia–Egypt [FIFA Records], accessed March 1, 2015, http://www.fifa.com/tournaments/archive/menso lympic/antwerp1920/matches/round=197017/match=32287/index.html. 6 “Member Association—Egypt,” FIFA, accessed February 27, 2015, http://www.fifa. com/associations/association=egy/. 7 FIFA, Olympic Football Tournament Paris 1924, Matches, Egypt–Hungary [FIFA Records], accessed March 1, 2015, http://www.fifa.com/tournaments/archive/menso lympic/paris1924/matches/round=197023/match=32303/index.html.

194 C. Ferraro

8 Fridose Moonda, “Soccer Africa’s First: Egypt at the 1934 World Cup,” ESPN FC, accessed March 1, 2015, http://m.espn.go.com/soccer/blogs/blogpost?id=1853263& blogname=footballafrica. 9 FIFA, 1934 FIFA World Cup ItalyTM, Matches, Hungary–Egypt [FIFA World Cup Records], accessed March 1, 2015, http://www.fifa.com/worldcup/matches/round= 204/match=1119/index.html. 10 Amr Shaheen, “1934: The Flying Egyptian,” BBC Sport, accessed March 3, 2015, http:// news.bbc.co.uk/sport3/worldcup2002/hi/history/newsid_1962000/1962689.stm. 11 “History—1863–2013 150 Years of Football in the Corps of the Royal Engineers,” 2012, accessed October 18, 2014, http://www.sapperfootball.co.uk/sappers/?page_id=143. 12 For a good analysis of muscular Christianity, see Donald E. Hall, Muscular Christianity: Embodying the Victorian Age, vol. 2 (Cambridge: University Press, 2006). 13 “History—1863–2013.” 14 Keith Warsop, The Early FA Cup Finals and the Southern Amateurs (Nottingham: Tony Brown, 2004), 20. 15 The Football Association, “TheFA.com—Cup Final Results,” UK 2009, accessed October 18, 2014, http://www.thefa.com/competitions/thefacup/more/finals. 16 Philip Gibbons, Association Football in Victorian England (Leicestershire: Upfront Publishing, 2001), 35, 42, 50. 17 Tony Mason and Eliza Riedi, Sport and the Military: The British Armed Forces, 1880–1960 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 20. 18 Ibid., 21; ArmyFA, History Since 1888. http://www.armyfa.com/about/history. 19 Mason and Riedi. Sport and the Military, 41. 20 Royal Navy Football Association, “History,” accessed October 23, 2014, http://www. royalnavyfa.com/contactus/our-organisation/our-history. 21 For a good explanation of Suez Canal trade, see Lawrence James, The Rise and Fall of the British Empire (New York: St. Martin’s Griffin 1994), 272–73. 22 Christina Phelps Harris, “The Persian Gulf Submarine Telegraph of 1864,” Geographical Journal 135, no. 2 (June 1969): 169–90. 23 Byron Farwell, Queen Victoria’s Little Wars (New York: W. W. Norton, 1972), 254. 24 Ibid. 25 Ibid., 258. 26 Royal Engineers, MOD records, WO25/3914, National Archives of the UK. 27 H.G. Hart, The New Annual Army List, Militia List, Yeomanry Cavalry List, and Indian Civil Service List for 1891 (London: John Murray, 1891) 182. 28 Arthur Silva White, The Expansion of Egypt under Anglo-Egyptian Condominium (London: Methuen, 1899), 295. 29 Ralph Richardson, “What Britain Has Done for Egypt,” North American Review 167, no. 500 (July 1898): 12. 30 Farwell, Queen Victoria’s Little Wars, 282. 31 Warsop, Early FA Cup Finals, 69. 32 Royal Engineers, MOD records, WO25/3914. 33 Farwell, Queen Victoria’s Little Wars, 285. 34 The Sketch: A Journal of Art and Actuality (London: Ingram Brothers, 1895) 9:374. 35 Mike Huggins, The Victorians and Sport (London: Hambledon and London, 2004), 219. 36 W. Fraser Rae, Egypt To-Day (London: Richard Bentley & Son, 1892), 201. 37 Ibid., 205. 38 M.A. Faksh, “An Historical Survey of the Educational System in Egypt,” International Review of Education 22, no. 2 (1976): 236. 39 Rae, Egypt To-Day, 191. 40 Ibid. 41 University Calendar, The Cambridge Review, no. 438 (Cambridge: J. Austin Fabb, 1896–97): iii. 42 M.A. Faksh, “An Historical Survey of the Educational System in Egypt,” 236. 43 Ibid.

The bulldog, the pharaoh, and the football 195

44 Donald M. Reid, “Turn-of-the-Century Egyptian School Days,” Comparative Education Review 27, no. 3 (1983): 374. 45 Ibid., 375. 46 Ibid. 47 Atityah, An Arab Tells His Story, 46. 48 Reid, “Turn-of-the-Century Egyptian School Days,” 379. 49 Ibid., 195–96. 50 Heather J. Sharkey, Living with Colonialism, Nationalism and Culture in the Anglo-Egyptian Sudan (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003), 43. 51 Cook’s Tourists’ Handbook for Egypt, the Nile and the Desert (London: Thomas Cook & Son, 1897), 165. 52 A.O. Lamplough, Egypt and How to See It (New York: Doubleday, Page & Co., 1907), 164. 53 Colonel Willoughby Verner, The Rifle Brigade Chronicle for 1903 (London: John Bale, Sons & Danielsson, 1904), 120. 54 Ibid. 55 Charles N. Robinson, RN, Navy and Army Illustrated (London: Hudson and Kearns, 1902), 57. 56 Egypt State Information Services, “Al-Ahly Sporting Club,” accessed February 21, 2015, http://www.sis.gov.eg/En/Templates/Articles/tmpArticles.aspx?ArtID=1752. 57 Egypt State Information Services, “Zamalek Club,” accessed February 22, 2015, http:// www.sis.gov.eg/En/Templates/Articles/tmpArticles.aspx?ArtID=1747. 58 “Portrait of a Pro: Hussein Hegazi,” Al-Ahram Weekly, 2004, accessed February 22, 2015, http://weekly.ahram.org.eg/Archive/2004/672/sp6.htm. 59 Ibid. 60 Ibid. 61 Ibid. 62 Tom Norton, “The Father of Egyptian Football,” Esquire Middle East, 2014, accessed February 22, 2015, https://www.esquireme.com/sports/father-egyptian-football. 63 James, Rise and Fall, 367. 64 Ibid., 219. 65 Lt. Col. Pierce Charles Joyce, Papers, Liddell Hart Military Archives, King’s College London, accessed December 2, 2014, http://www.kingscollections.org/catalogues/ lhcma/collection/j/jo90-001/?id=1255&asId=as1&search=football&sub.x=0&sub.y=0& sub=Search. 66 James, Rise and Fall, 368. 67 Ibid. 68 Atityah, An Arab Tells His Story, 61. 69 James, Rise and Fall, 272.

13 SPORTS AND PHYSICAL EDUCATION IN ETHIOPIA DURING THE ITALIAN OCCUPATION, 1936–1941 Tamirat Gebremariam and Benoit Gaudin

Introduction Western forms of physical education and modern sports arrived in Ethiopia through the activities of social and political elites who were in contact with the European world of the late 1800s and early 1900s. There are various aspects of the origin and spread of modern sports in Ethiopia. The first and the earliest factor concerns young Ethiopians from the nobility who were sent to Europe and who received there a Western education that included physical education and sport. The second factor encompasses the influence of the European teachers and clergy who settled in Addis Ababa, the capital of Ethiopia, in the early twentieth century and helped propagate sports and physical education activities among their local students. The third influence came from the Regent Teferi Mekonnen (later Emperor Haile Selassie) himself, who attended the Paris Olympics in 1924. Much has been written on the political history of Ethiopia before, during, and after the Italian occupation (1936–41), though very little study has been made of the social history of the period. In this chapter, we endeavor to give an overview of these critical years from the perspective of sport and physical education. The chapter describes and analyzes the variety of sporting activities practiced and the institutions in charge of them. Evidence from a variety of sources demonstrates that the Italian occupation introduced many changes and broadened physical activities outside Addis Ababa. Moreover, the period ushered in the introduction of basic sport laws, and the institutionalization and professionalization of sport activities. The Italian period was also marked by racial discrimination in sporting activities against the indigenous population. The deeds of the Fascists paradoxically boosted the national profile of local sports clubs, especially the St. George Sport Club.

Ethiopia during the Italian Occupation 197

The birth of modern sports and physical education in Ethiopia The first Ethiopians to encounter modern sports were young nobles sent to Europe, often to Great Britain, to learn “at the source” the lessons of modernity. This movement started with King Tewodros’s son, Prince Alemayehu, who was sent to Britain in 1868 and received a Western education there at Rugby School. The school was the birthplace of rugby, so Prince Alemayehu learned to play while a pupil there. From that time, and throughout the period from Menelik to Haile Selassie, young nobles or favored people were often sent to attend some of the most prestigious institutions in Europe, where modern sports had emerged during the nineteenth century. According to Bahru Zewde, in the 1920s the sons of Hakim Worqenah Eshate, Yosef and Benyam Warqenah, developed an interest in sports, especially cricket, hockey, and rugby, while studying at Loughborough College in Leicestershire. Remarkably, Yosef became the captain of the college’s cricket club in 1935.1 Returning from their studies in Europe, the young nobles brought to Ethiopia the Western cultural model, in which sport figures prominently. In the Ethiopian social context, modern sport then serves as a distinctive activity, a social marker signifying for the elites a sense of belonging to Western culture. Football, the pinnacle of the British-educated elite’s new physical culture, arises as a perfect symbol of this cultural borrowing.2 In 1924, as regent, Teferi Mekonnen received an invitation from the president of the International Olympic Committee (IOC), Baron Pierre de Coubertin, to attend the Eighth Olympiad in Paris, France. After the Games, Regent Teferi had a meeting with Coubertin in which they discussed the potential participation of Ethiopia in the Ninth Olympiad. Soon afterward, Teferi sent a letter to the IOC applying to make Ethiopia a member of the committee and to participate in the 1928 Olympics. However, the newly appointed president of the IOC, Henri de Baillet-Latour (who served 1925–42), rejected the Ethiopian bid to participate in the Olympic Games, likely owing to a racist attitude on his part.3 Another factor in the introduction of modern sporting activities is Ethiopians’ contact with the Westerners arriving in the nation’s new capital, Addis Ababa, in the early 1900s, most of whom were teachers and the clergy. The first schools delivering a Western-style education were begun by Catholic and Protestant missionaries in the first half of the nineteenth century. The first government-run school, the Menelik II School, was founded in 1908; the Teferi Mekonnen School was established in 1925; and the first school for girls, Etege Menen school, reserved for the ladies of the nobility and the local economic elites, opened in 1931. These institutions were run by Coptic and European teachers. In these schools, the young nobles, the future leaders of the country, became familiar with forms of physical education modeled on teachings popular in Europe.4 According to Sintayehu Tola, “Schools were the principal institution for the spread and development of modern sports.”5 Ladislas Farago describes the diverse physical activities at these schools during the 1930–35 period thus: “In the school, the gym display lasted an hour, they vaulted over parallel

198 T. Gebremariam and B. Gaudin

bars, did pull up on the horizontal bar, performed physical exercises, played at tugof-war to finish off with a … football match.”6 Systematic military training, including structured physical training, did not really begin in Ethiopia until the late 1910s. In 1917, the Regent Teferi created a new military body, the Imperial Bodyguard, which was attached to the Army. In 1919, he appointed a small group of White Russian officers and some Ethiopians who had served in the British King’s African Rifles to lead his troops. Then, in 1929, because the emperor wanted to detach the Imperial Bodyguard from the army, he appealed to Belgian military advisers in the country to train officers (these advisers stayed until 1935). Some of the cadets later went on to complete their training in France, at the Military Academy of Saint Cyr.7 In 1933, Emperor Haile Selassie again called on Belgian technical advisers, this time to reorganize the police force. Then, in 1934, it was to a Swedish delegation of four military officers that he entrusted the mission to open in Holeta, on the outskirts of the capital, the Haile Selassie I Military Training Centre, also known as Holeta Genet Military School. The next year, the British managed to impose themselves in the region’s geopolitics and received the task of training the police staff and the Imperial Bodyguard, taking the place of the Belgians. The British received permission to establish and train police units in Addis Ababa, Dire Dawa, and along the railroad between the capital and neighboring Djibouti. Their actions were cut short, however, because the following year, 1936, Italian troops invaded the country.8 Alongside the British, Belgian, and Swedish officers, young Ethiopians learned various physical activities specifically geared to European military formations, including forms of hygienist and military gymnastics. The content of the teaching and the nature of the physical preparation was likely very similar to the activities practiced at the time by British colonial troops in Africa (football, athletics, races, and team games) or by the French Foreign Legion in Africa (boxing, wrestling, fencing, and athletics).9 Athletics was thus presumably introduced to Ethiopia in the context of military training during the 1930s. In January 1935, during his visit to Addis Ababa, Prince Gustav of Sweden was treated to the spectacle of one of the first Ethiopian sporting events (including racing, acrobatics, and group gymnastics) performed at the Jan Meda sports ground by selected students from different schools.10

Introduction of football and the first football teams Alongside the physical education offered by schools and the military, another modern physical activity was emerging in Addis Ababa during this period: the sport of football. The playing of football is first documented in Ethiopia in 1924, on the occasion of games played in Addis Ababa between teams of expatriates. The first teams included members of the main foreign communities in the capital: Armenians on the Ararat team, Greeks on Olympiacos, Italians on Juventus, as well as an Indian team. The first games were held on the extensive, ill-defined Jan Meda grounds in the northern part of the city, and the referee was following the action on horseback.11 In 1930, Addis Ababa counted nearly 6,000 residents of foreign nationalities, including the French and Arabs.12

Ethiopia during the Italian Occupation 199

Ethiopian youngsters attended these meetings—some with envy and others with more reserve. It was not until 1935, more than a decade after the first-ever match in Ethiopia, that we find evidence of natives forming a football team.13 The foreigners, ridiculously attired in shorts, enjoyed very poor esteem among the population of the capital of the empire, who did not understand how people could devote their time to such an activity: “Negative public attitude toward modern sport was one of the major problems of that time. Those young [people] seen playing football were considered as idles and were ridiculed … In general, the public did not know the essence and spirit of sport.”14 Football games had such a negative image among the local population that matches were sometimes prohibited and players were even arrested by the city police. In 1935–36, when the first local teams were set up, they were mostly composed of youths aged between 11 and 15. These young players were all students of the main schools of the capital, and most also were French speakers. This characteristic denotes their belonging to social groups that likely had either attended the French school (for the nobility or the commercial bourgeoisie) or received (military) training from the Belgian technical advisers.15 The first football team of young Ethiopians was the St. George Football Team, founded in December 1935.16 It was created on the initiative of two students in the Teferi Mekonnen School, Ayele Atnash and George Dukas, the latter being the son of an Armenian-born Ethiopian. It took these two pioneers almost six months to recruit enough players from the various schools to form a team. In the following months, other young Ethiopians formed teams, in three districts of Addis Ababa (Sidist Kilo, Kabana, and Gullele). Two football teams were also founded in the city of Asmara, Eritrea: the Hamassien and the Qay Bahr (Red Sea).17 “Native football” was therefore created on almost the same date in both Ethiopia and Eritrea.

Football and the origins of Ethiopian nationalism As we have seen, communities of foreigners dominated football in Ethiopia in the 1930s. The best teams were Ararat and Olympiacos. It is against these so-called foreign teams that young Ethiopians mobilized themselves to create their own team.18 These small teams (such as the St. George club) could play against the foreign teams, which required a written invitation, on letterhead paper with the seal of the applicant’s club.19 The making of such a seal was one of the founding acts of the St. George team, which then managed to play against the “big teams” of the day. According to popular stories, St. George did “not lose a single match” against foreign teams during this pioneering period.20 Its success symbolically raised St. George’s status from a district football team to the national team. These successes developed both nascent patriotism and a deep passion for football. An agonistic dimension of the St. George team is claimed by the founding members, who were interviewed by Tola: “Saint George was the chosen name, among other reasons, because this saint, especially after the battle of Adwa in which he [St. George] accompanied Menelik’s army, was viewed as a patron saint of war and victory.”21

200 T. Gebremariam and B. Gaudin

In its early days, the captain of St. George was George Dukas, who was succeeded by Yidnekatchew Tessema as soon as he joined the team in February 1936, two months after its founding. So it was Yidnekatchew who led the “patriots” against the “foreign” teams. His personal leadership qualities are evidenced by the testimonies of players of the time. The successes of the team did not rely on his personal merits alone, or on the football talents of his companions: they were also attributed to the power of the Bible that players placed in the cages of their goal to divert opponents’ shots.22 At the outset, the team did not have a coach. Sometimes, when they were practicing in a school yard, they received some advice from British teachers. Later, Yidnekatchew assumed the role of coach, a position he held until 1964. Tessema was the soul and backbone of the team, and during the Italian occupation Tessema’s leadership was the main reason for the team’s perseverance.23

Changes in the Italian initiative: Racial segregation of sport activities At the beginning of the Italian occupation (1936–41), owing to the Fascists’ racial policy, Ethiopians had no opportunity to play official football matches. We may safely assume that Ethiopian boys kept on playing football on the roads and open spaces, with balls made of tied-up cloth rags, just as poor children do in Addis Ababa nowadays. However, in 1937, a separate sports office for native Ethiopians was established with the name Sport Office for the Indigenous, under the Italian Directorate for Political Affairs. It was located near what became St. Paul’s Hospital.24 The Sport Office encouraged Ethiopians to set up football and cycling youth teams. Yidnekatchew Tessema succinctly described how he took advantage of his position inside the office to learn managerial competencies: The sport office for the indigenous was established purely for political reasons under the Italian Directorate for Political Affairs. In line with this political aim all new teams were ordered to be formed and named under different ethnic “tribal” and religious designations. The classic “Divide and Rule” formulation … It was decided that among the football players I should work in the sports office. I was involved in translating the soccer rules and regulations … Even though the work I was assigned to do helped me to have a good knowledge about the workings of the sports business, still I did not find it difficult to understand that the Italian policy was morally bankrupt and that it was simply political machination.25 In football, the Sport Office for the Indigenous worked to curb the nationalist dimension and the symbolic significance of this team sport. Indigenous football teams were not allowed to play matches against the “white” teams, and the Italian administration required local clubs to adopt Italian names: St George became Littorio Wube Squadra, Sidist Kilo became Piazza Roma, Gulälè became Consolata, Qebena became

Ethiopia during the Italian Occupation 201

Villa Italia, Hamassien became Ardita, and Qay Bahr became Savoia. For the newly established village sports clubs, a new name was designated. These clubs were labeled based on Fascist political ideas like Tihetena (politeness), Tegest (patience), and Mefeqer (passion). By offering such names, the Sport Office was committed to transforming their psychological makeup and to making Ethiopian youth loyal to the Fascist government. Besides encouragement to set up football and cycling teams, the office provided some basic material support, such as sporting equipment, for the Ethiopian teams.26 Fascist Italy was fond of football and bicycle racing, but its policy in Ethiopian was racist, such that the Sport Office organized segregated football matches and bicycle races only for Ethiopians. The policy of segregation followed by the Fascist government required native Ethiopians (gli indigeni) to live in separate districts. Further, it made Ethiopian teams play football on separate fields, and Ethiopian cyclists race on separate streets. As a result, Ethiopians conducted various sporting activities strictly in the “indigenous quarter” of Addis Ababa; on Janhoy Mèda (“Field of the Emperor”); in the Märcato (mercato indigeno, or the indigenous market), or in Felwuhä (around the hot springs near Haile Selassie’s Jubilee Palace, later renamed the National Palace).27 The Italian occupation can, however, be credited with organizing, through the Sport Office for the Indigenous, the first-ever football competition in Ethiopia: the Šhäwa Championship, in 1938, 1939, and 1940. This event consisted of football matches for children, youth, and adult groups. It lasted for three months. A number of football clubs participated, including St. George, Qäbäna, Sedest Kilo, Jan Meda, Gulälè, Entotto, Tegest, Mefeqere, and Tihetena. St. George, under the name Littorio Wube Squadra, was the winner of the first two Šhäwa Championships, and the Jan Meda football team won the 1940 cup.28 The Italian occupation was also the time when bicycle sport was introduced to Ethiopia and became massively popular. A policy promoting cycling was launched in Addis Ababa, as well as in Asmara, in order to support the export market for Italian cycles—at a time when Italian exports were subject to an international embargo. During this time, the most renowned bicycle champions were Kasaye Resome, Asefa Teklyohanes, Bizuneh Zewelde Mariam, Kassa Fedill, and Mulugeta Kassa. Kassa Fedill played an effective role in the expansion of cycling in Ethiopia after he was ordered by the Sport Office to organize bicycle squads in every village in the native quarter of Addis Ababa. During the Italian occupation, all non-Italian teachers were forced to leave the country, and most of the government schools were closed and turned into barracks and warehouses. Some schools were allowed to remain open, such as Teferi Mekonnen School, which served as an academic and technical school for Italian children. The schools for Ethiopians were hardly centers of learning; rather, they were used by the Italians as centers for disseminating Fascist propaganda and also for the political indoctrination of young Ethiopians, to encourage loyalty to the Fascist government.29 During the Italian occupation, the takeover of government schools resulted in the loss, to Ethiopians, of sports equipment and sports fields.

202 T. Gebremariam and B. Gaudin

Sports and the Fascist regime Sporting activities played an important part in Italian Fascist doctrine, as physical activities were intended to shape and strengthen the colonial state. In this context, the political institutions of the Italian regime were in charge of promoting all kind of sports and fostering the participation of both men and women. Their function was explicitly to “develop sport in its educational, agonistic and of physical perfection functions, according to the racial postulate of the fascist doctrine.”30 For the first time, Ethiopian populations, as well as other populations of the colony, were able to see new sport activities, such as basketball, fencing, rock climbing, boxing, cycling, motorcycling, and car racing. The first-ever documented report of athletics competitions in Ethiopia appeared in this context: in Harar in 1937 a road race was contested by 80 participants; and a cross-country race involved 44 participants. In 1938, again in Harar, a polisportiva event organized in the Stadio di Harar displayed track and field events such as foot races, long jump, high jump, shot put, and discus throwing.31 In Addis Ababa, the country’s inaugural cross-country championship (Campeonato Federale de Corse Campestri) was organized in 1939. Some other activities, already known in Ethiopia, such as wrestling, shooting, and horse riding, were practiced and organized in ways very different from the traditional, in very specific environments, and with participants in strange attire. Even more surprising to Ethiopians, women were taking part in some of these activities: fencing, horse riding, basketball, and athletics. Also new to Ethiopians were the numerous competitions, tournaments, races, cups, rallies, and other events organized for these sporting activities. Football tournaments were organized on a weekly basis by the Ufficio Sportivo della Federazione (Federation Sport Office) with participation of numerous teams.32 All these events attracted local spectators and achieved great success, such as the car gymkhana organized in Harar in 1938, which gathered an “outstanding crowd.”33 Besides these events, the Italians also introduced exams for a Brevetto Sportivo (Sport Diploma),34 opened the division of sport medicine,35 launched a series of training sessions and qualification exams for football referees, and started structuring the sport sector according to Olympic standards.36 Finally, an office of the Italian National Olympic Committee was established in Addis Ababa in order to “coordinate and manage all the sport activity which is developing in Italian East Africa.”37 In response to the racial segregation, nationalist sentiment began growing among the population. Regarding this development, some historians consider that this feeling grew only because of the Italian invasion. But the remarks of Sintayehu on the perception of the St. George team reveal that some form of patriotism already existed in 1936, and that it found expression during football matches. Just after the arrival of the Italians, the players of St. George, who used to play in black-andwhite jerseys, decided instead to adopt the national color (yellow, green, and red) in an act of defiance to the occupation authorities. The Italian authorities reacted by confiscating and burning the jerseys. This reaction only reinforced the status of the St. George team as defender of the national cause—now became martyrs—that it had cultivated since its founding.38

Ethiopia during the Italian Occupation 203

The Legacy of the Italian occupation in sports and physical education Following the restoration of the Ethiopian government in 1941, for a short period sport activities were halted. Later, friendly football matches were held among local teams. However, games between Ethiopians and foreigners did not take place until 1942. The first football match after the Italian occupation, between the Ethiopian team St. George and the Italian team Fortitudo, was held in 1942 at the Italian team’s field. The match ended with a 4–1 victory for St. George.39 After independence, the activities of the Sport Office for the Indigenous were terminated. Therefore, in Ethiopia there was no longer any sports authority for governing and organizing sport activities in the country. In 1943, on the initiative of the secretary-general of the Ministry of Information, the Ethiopian Football Federation was established, making football the first nationally organized modern sport in Ethiopia.40 In 1944, the Sport Office organized the first Ethiopian football championships. The participants were five clubs in Addis Ababa: Ethiopian (St. George), Italian (Fortitudo), British (British Military Mission), Armenian (Ararat), and Greek (Olympiacos). In this championship the British Military Mission was the cup winner.41 Physical education did not prosper after the end of the Italian occupation, perhaps because its expansion had been quite limited and its purpose overly military-oriented. Football remained a sport with a high nationalist component, with fierce games between Eritrean and Ethiopian teams in the 1950s, and later a Pan-African dimension.42 All other “new” sports, including athletics, plus all the sporting events (championships, races, rallies, etc.) disappeared, with one notable exception: the Sport Day at schools, sponsored and attended by the emperor. Athletics was greatly neglected, up to the preparation for the Rome Olympics in the late 1950s. Sport diversity had largely disappeared, and 15 years later, on the eve of the 1956 Olympics, the first in which Ethiopia would participate, only boxing and cycling were practiced, alongside athletics, which was present mostly in the armed forces. It may be that the display of all the new sports by the Italians had met with such a poor reception because of the racist dimension of the occupation. Insofar as sport and physical education are concerned, the Italian occupation cannot be precisely labeled a colonizing process since it did not provoke any deep societal or cultural changes in the occupied country.

Conclusion The introduction of modern sports in Ethiopia was closely related to the interests of Western-educated Ethiopians and to the establishment of modern education and a modern army. Modern sports in Ethiopia began a new chapter after the Italian Occupation (1936–41). However, the occupation by Italy impacted the history of sports in Ethiopia. The five-year period witnessed the introduction by the government of Italian East Africa of many modern sports as well as the spread of physical education to peripheral regions. Despite sporting activities being marked by racial segregation against the indigenous population, the period laid a foundation for the introduction of basic laws regulating, institutionalizing, and professionalizing sporting activities.

204 T. Gebremariam and B. Gaudin

Notes 1 Bahru Zewde, Pioneers of Change in Ethiopia: The Reformist Intellectuals of the Early Twentieth Century (Addis Ababa: Addis Ababa University Press, 2002), 86; Benoit Gaudin, “L’Ethiopie sportive pré-marathonienne 1924–1960,” Aethiopica—International Journal of Ethiopian and Eritrean Studies 12 (2009): 83–110. 2 Gaudin, “L’Ethiopie sportive,” 84. 3 Ethiopian Olympic Committee, Ethiopia at Olympics (May 2008), 20–21. 4 Zewde, Pioneers of Change in Ethiopia, 23–31. 5 Sintayehu Tola, “The History of Saint George Sport Club” (senior essay for BA History, Addis Ababa University, 1986), 4. 6 Ladislas Farago, Abyssinia on the Eve (London: Putnam Press, 1935), 170. 7 Fekrou Kidane, “Courir pour vivre,” Les Nouvelles d’Addis, cahier thématique L’athlétisme éthiopien, supplement no. 38, p. 1., Nov 2003–Jan 2004. 8 Gaudin, “L’Ethiopie sportive,” 83–110. 9 Anthony Clayton, “Sport and African Soldiers: The Military Diffusion of Western Sport throughout Sub-Saharan Africa,” in Sport in Africa: Essays in Social History, ed. William Baker and James Mangan (New York: Holmes and Meier, 1987), 114–34. 10 Ministry of Education, All Ethiopian Inter-Schools Sports Festival (Addis Ababa, 1980), 44. 11 Ethiopian Football Federation, Football in Ethiopia 1943–1968 (Addis Ababa: Artistic Printing Press, 1968), 13. 12 Farago, Abyssinia on the Eve, 26. 13 Tola, “History of Saint George Sport Club,” 6. 14 Ibid., 11. 15 Kidane, “Courir pour vivre,” 1. 16 The St. George club is also sometimes called by the name of its neighborhood: Arada. Tola, “History of Saint George Sport Club,” 7. 17 Ethiopian Football Federation, Football in Ethiopia, 16. 18 Tola, “History of Saint George Sport Club,” 5. 19 Ibid., 10. 20 Ibid., 12. 21 Ibid., 7. 22 Ibid., 10. 23 Ibid. 24 Solomon Addis Getahun, “A History of Sport in Ethiopia,” Proceedings of the 16th International Conference of Ethiopian Studies (Department of Social Anthropology, Norwegian University of Science and Technology, Trondheim, 2009), 410. 25 Ethiopian Football Federation, Football in Ethiopia, 16. 26 Ibid.; Getahun, “History of Sport in Ethiopia,” 411. 27 Ethiopian Football Federation, Football in Ethiopia, 16; Bahru Zewde, Society, State and History: Selected Essays (Addis Ababa: Addis Ababa University Press, 2008), 495. 28 Ethiopia Football Quarterly Magazine 1 (October 1999): 11. 29 Richard Pankhurst, “Education, Language and History: An Historical Background to Post War Ethiopia,” Ethiopia Journal of Education 7, nos. 1–2 (1974–75): 94–95; Yetimwork Tarekegn, “A Historical Survey of Women’s Education in Government Primary and High Schools in Addis Ababa: 1941–1974, ” (Master’s thesis, Department of History, Addis Ababa University, 2012), 4. 30 Mondadori, Gli Annali Dell’ Africa Italiana, 925. 31 Ibid., 927. 32 Ibid., 919. 33 Ibid., 917. 34 Ibid., 917. 35 Ibid., 920. 36 Ethiopia Football Quarterly Magazine 1 (October 1999): 11. 37 Mondadori, Gli Annali Dell’ Africa Italiana, 925.

Ethiopia during the Italian Occupation 205

38 Tola, “History of Saint George Sport Club,” 8. 39 Ethiopian Football Federation, Football in Ethiopia, 17–18. 40 Ministry of Youth and Sport, The Ethiopia Millennium Sport for All and Traditional Sports and Games Festival, 2000 (Ethiopian Calendar), 45; Ethiopian Football Federation, Football in Ethiopia, 19–22. 41 Ethiopian Football Federation, Football in Ethiopia, 64. 42 Gaudin, “L’Ethiopie sportive.”

14 COMMERCIALIZATION OF FOOTBALL IN AFRICA Prospects, challenges, and experiences Manase Kudzai Chiweshe

Introduction Football has turned into a billion-dollar industry across the world, but Africa remains at the periphery of this lucrative system. Many factors are likely responsible, including the predatory and globalized nature of major European leagues, and Africa’s domestic problems stemming from systematic and institutionalized problems with its football administration structures. Local African leagues and clubs are largely run unprofessionally except in a very few countries such as South Africa, and accusations of match fixing abound. Coupled with this, political interference provides a context whereby football becomes a complex social construct in which contestations over space, culture, politics, and economics intersect to produce very little development of the game as a vibrant commercial entity. Football will no doubt remain popular and part of the social fabric in Africa. However, the full commercial development of the game will never be realized if the current organizational malfeasance continues. Because of institutional corruption, Africa can forget crowning a world champion at the highest level anytime soon if infrastructural development does not improve in the foreseeable future. Local clubs in Africa face serious challenges of sustaining themselves in the long run, including local management of funds and European talent grabs. Local football needs sound management, serious youth development for boys and girls, better training for coaches, and infrastructural improvements at the grassroots.1 This requires money to flow to the grassroots and not into the pockets of officials. Without this approach, African football will slowly suffocate. It is not feasible to continuously ask governments to prop up and sponsor the sport despite their having no jurisdiction in monitoring how monies they give are used. With little talent being developed at the grassroots, there is a possibility that most fans will stay away from the games and that revenue will fall.2 The global reach of European

Commercialization of football in Africa 207

clubs has contributed to the rise of a transnational fan base, which has meant many African football lovers forgo watching local leagues and instead tune in to televised European football matches, especially those in the English Premier League. Local leagues, impoverished by years of underdevelopment and maladministration, are finding it difficult to compete with the growing presence of non-African football via increasingly accessible satellite TV. African football is thus at a crossroads, and dealing with corruption is a daunting task without upsetting FIFA’s noninterference policy. As long as there is an economic and political benefit to running football in Africa, corruption will always be an integral part of the game. The multifaceted and institutionalized nature of corruption is difficult to counter through legislation, and many have given up on ever cleaning up the African game. Such a state of affairs impacts football’s commercialization prospects, which serves to scare away corporate partners and affects the branding of African football. A cursory look at the value of football brands in the European market, and the commercial pull of American sports such as American football and basketball, shows that sport can be an engine for growth, creation of employment, and infrastructural development. Football is also able to create upstream and downstream industries that are sustainable. Successful club structures can also build a strong foundation for national teams. Yet the experiences from across the continent show that the majority of African leagues are in turmoil. In a report on Botswana, Tshimologo Boitumelo writes: “The insatiable appetite for control is one of the reasons [why]. Adding to the woes of our clubs [read our football] is the culture of division and factionalism that threaten to scuttle any efforts to present our number one sport as the most attractive to do business with.”3 In September 2016, spending on new players in the English Premier League surpassed £1 billion in a single transfer window. This is just one example of how football has emerged as a global billion-dollar industry that employs thousands of people and promotes ancillary economic enterprises. This chapter engages with the following questions: Why is football not generating the same level of economic value in Africa? How is it that the game is failing to thrive economically on a continent where 50 percent of the population watched some part of the 2014 FIFA World Cup and over 20 million watched the UEFA Champions League in May 2015? What are the prospects and what are the challenges in commercializing African football? I highlight both current and past experiences in the commercialization of Africa football, in an attempt to show that Africa is failing to capitalize on the popularity and commercial base of football because of factors such as corruption, lack of professional structures, lack of corporate endorsements, poor stadium infrastructure, lack of government support, lack of effective advertising and broadcasting systems, and lack of proper planning for new media and new markets. Finally, the chapter provides recommendations of possible ways to enhance the commercial value of African football.

208 M.K. Chiweshe

Background: Football in Africa There are many competing narratives on the state of African football. I provide the many faces of these arguments while highlighting that African football has yet to reach its full commercial potential. To begin with, the sport is a colonial construct on the continent. The British, Belgian, French, and Portuguese colonialists introduced football into Africa more than 100 years ago, early in the colonial era. Although the sport was popular under colonial rule, it is only after the independence wave of the 1960s that we see widespread nationalism coinciding with the growth of the game.4 As the game has grown across the continent, Africa has produced global superstars, such as Eusebio (Mozambique), George Weah (Liberia), Samuel Eto’o (Cameroon), Augustine Okocha (Nigeria), and Didier Drogba (Côte d’Ivoire). African stars today grace the rosters of many European league teams, and African teams qualify for and perform at global events including the FIFA World Cup. Football in Africa is organized under the auspices of the Confederation of African Football (CAF). Egyptian, Ethiopian, South African, and Sudanese sport organizations founded CAF on February 8, 1957, in Khartoum, Sudan. During this period the game could not flourish on the continent as countries were fighting for independence. As the entity responsible for the development of football on the continent, CAF has its fair share of critics. Farayi Mungazi, writing for the BBC, notes sardonically, “Whatever expectations there may have been that the present CAF leadership is capable of offering direction to African football must now surely be laid to rest.”5 CAF is thus part of the problem in failed efforts to commercialize football in Africa. Its lack of transparency and absence of corporate governance is inimical to the further development of the game, and with this type of leadership African football will remain in the doldrums. Issa Hayatou led CAF for many years, and under his leadership corruption became an integral part of the CAF culture. He held on to power by intimidating opponents and changing voting rules to ensure his continued reign.6 On CAF’s executive committee, Hayatou was surrounded by people with shady pasts, as Osasu Obayiuwana notes: Such a nauseating atmosphere allowed the disheartening return of Mali’s Amadou Diakite, to the CAF executive committee. Having been banned by FIFA for two years, from “all football activities,” for his unethical behavior, in the prelude to the vote for the 2018/2022 World Cup hosts, one would have thought the global opprobrium, following such a ban, would have automatically knocked him out of the contest. But the former FIFA executive committee member, whose two-year exile ended on October 20 last year, got a resounding endorsement during the elections. And how about the ascension of Anjorin Moucharafou, the controversial president of the Benin Football Federation, FBF, to the same CAF executive committee? An unapologetic, long-standing loyalist of Hayatou, Anjorin spent several months in a Beninoise jail, following the “disappearance” of almost $700,000 in sponsorship money, from the FBF’s coffers. He was restored to his position at home, after FIFA threatened to sanction Benin’s government for political interference.7

Commercialization of football in Africa 209

In March 2017, Hayatou was voted out of power, but it is still too early to ascertain whether the new president, Ahmad, will forge a new path for African football.8 What is clear, however, is that poor administration is at the root of most problems in African football.

Experiences with commercialization in African football Despite CAF’s record of poor administration, there are some administrative practices emerging in countries where a degree of commercialization of football has succeeded that should be copied. Case studies from countries such as South Africa can be instructive for other African countries still grappling with how to commercialize football. Peter Alegi, for example, provides a detailed history of South African football.9 He highlights how the game developed from its colonial past, through the apartheid era, to a multimillion-rand business. By 2003–04 there were 1.8 million registered players, and corporate sponsorships had reached more than R640 million. Similarly, Yomi Kazeem summarizes three lessons that other African countries can learn from South African football.10 The first is that clubs should offer value to sponsors by “ensuring stadium security, minimal crowd violence and affordable ticketing. With all these in place, the South African league captures attention and eyeballs thus providing sponsor brands with an avenue to deepen relationships and immerse themselves into customers’ conversations.” The second lesson is that the league’s excellent organization ensures properly arranged schedules, with games starting on time, good referees, and professional league structures. That is, football in South Africa is a professional entity with proper league offices, a chief executive, and a body that runs the league. Across Africa, however, most leagues remain amateurish, fraught with conflicts and maladministration. Kazeem’s third lesson is that the South African league has invested in its fans and built a brand that is slowly going global. In 2013, the Soweto Derby (games between the Orlando Pirates and the Kaizer Chiefs) was watched by more than 100 million households across the world. The derby attracts an average of 90,000 fans in the stadium, and thus corporations want to be part of such a brand. The success of South African football also needs to be contextualized. South Africa has one of the biggest economies on the continent and a level of political stability, which have allowed football to flourish.11 The South African case shows that a good brand attracts sponsors, but that building a brand requires professional structures.

Challenges facing commercialization of African football Club ownership structure Forms of ownership of African football clubs fall into three broad categories: community, government, and private clubs. While it is not clear which type of football will work best in Africa, serious problems have been documented with community-owned teams. These community-owned teams have large fan bases;

210 M.K. Chiweshe

for example, Yanga and Simba in Tanzania have millions of supporters across the country and around 12,000–13,000 registered members; in Egypt, Zamalek has around 54,000 members.12 A report on club structures notes two failures with community clubs in Africa. The first is that, despite their large fan bases, community teams face complicated and deep-rooted administrative challenges. Being so popular within their countries leaves the clubs susceptible to overpoliticization. Second, in a number of cases, community-owned clubs have become overdependent on state support and are not run as financially sustainable businesses. The lack of a stable financial base contributes further to overpoliticization of the clubs. In Zimbabwe the two biggest clubs, the Highlanders and the Dynamos, have varying forms of community ownership, and both have experienced continued fights over control of the clubs.13 Government-owned clubs are no better, given the tendency of government to exercise intense control in the day-to-day running of clubs. Corporate sponsors are, in the main, not attracted to state-owned teams because of such government interference. Privately owned clubs are of two types: individually owned clubs, such as Sundowns in South Africa and TP Mazembe in the Democratic Republic of the Congo; and clubs owned by companies, such as Tusker in Kenya. Private clubs usually are better run than either community-owned or government-owned ones, and enjoy considerable financial support from their owners.

Corruption and lack of integrity Rampant corruption, maladministration, and lack of accountability have negatively impacted the development of football in Africa. Examples from across the continent highlight how the underdevelopment of the game is intrinsically linked to the lack of transparency in how the game is being managed.14 Corruption has become synonymous with African football. The tale of the game on the continent is full of controversy and complex problems involving missing funds, election rigging, presidents who serve for decades, underpaid players, and poor infrastructure. The nature and level of corruption may differ from country to country, but what is clear from the literature is that most, if not all, African countries have serious administrative problems when it comes to football.15 While there are many shades of corruption, this chapter understands it as the abuse of public office for private gain. Within the administration of football, corruption occurs when any official or person uses his or her position of trust in order to gain an undue advantage. Across the world, football corruption is evident in such activities as vote buying, match fixing, and bribing officials, as well as in player transfers, sponsorship deals, and even team selections.16 In Africa, additional issues of nepotism, tribalism, regionalism, and religion also play an important part in corrupt activities.17 Corruption determines access to space, resources, and a fair chance of victory. Corruption is institutionalized within African governing systems and football structures are no different. Arnold Pannenborg shows that corruption in Africa goes by many names: “a little something,” a “gift,” a “motivation,” “an envelope,” or a “dash.”18 Most of these terms refer to eating—indeed, “to eat” can mean people using public money for

Commercialization of football in Africa 211

private purposes. Nigerians call it “sharing the national cake,” which tells you that the practice is to some extent “legitimized.” African football has developed a system of patronage whereby rich and powerful individuals use their administrative positions to amass wealth, power, and continued political influence. This is what Robert Price terms the “Big-Man Small-Boy Syndrome,” in which the Big Man controls and gives orders while the Small Boy obeys and does not dare to speak his mind.19 Most of the people employed in football in Africa are clients who are placed there typically without any proper qualifications or skills to perform their job. A report by the Forum of African Investigative Reporters (FAIR) labels football administrators as corrupt, greedy, and inefficient.20 Thabani Khumalo concludes that while players (such as George Weah, Salif Keita, Didier Drogba, and Kalusha Balwa) have sacrificed their personal fortunes to develop not just soccer but also their own communities, and have in some cases bailed out their national teams, the administration tasked with developing the game focuses on personal gain.21 Football can be a lucrative livelihood for senior administrators with access to funds from FIFA; taxes from affiliates, including premier soccer leagues; and gate revenue from national team games. Very little is plowed back into structures that promote junior football or coaching. The FAIR report outlines instances of vote buying and corruption in elections for football administration positions.22 One example is in Zimbabwe, where two football councillors admitted receiving US$2,000 each for their votes in electing the football president.23 Amos Adamu, who was the head of Nigeria’s football association, allegedly misappropriated an US$800,000 grant from FIFA meant for infrastructural programs.24 Former Cameroonian goalkeeper Joseph-Antoine Bell once claimed that 90 out of 100 dollars in football disappears into private pockets.25 Corruption is bad because, among other things, it demoralizes the players. The FAIR report cites the following cases of corruption from across Africa to highlight the wanton and brazen actions affecting African football. In Cameroon, the mobile phone company MTN financed US$600,000 of a project estimated to cost US$800,000, to renovate a number of stadia. The Cameroonian Football Association was to finance the remaining amount. The money disappeared, however, with the sports minister at the time, Thierry Augustin Edzoa, pocketing US$146,000, so that he could “breathe easier,” so he said after the payment. The work never was done, and the MTN’s US$600,000 investment is still unaccounted for.26 In Nigeria, under the leadership of Adamu, clubs received only a small share of the US$7 million paid by the sponsor Globalcom, and no club received a share of the television rights, which are worth around US$5 million. This is also the case in Côte d’Ivoire, where sponsorship of $1.6 million a year from the Ivorian Petrol Refinery Company has never reached the local clubs.27 There is a lot of money flowing into African football from “companies whose core businesses are mining, agriculture, oil and gas, beverages and otherwise,” as well as from global sports firms like Adidas and Puma and from African TV networks.28 Much of the money earmarked for grassroots development is spent elsewhere, as is obvious when one sees the poor football facilities in Africa.

212 M.K. Chiweshe

Lack of football infrastructural development Across much of the continent, football infrastructure is crumbling due to corruption, lack of investment, and neglect.29 Stadia of most clubs resemble junkyards with poor drainage systems, bumpy pitches, inadequate changing rooms, concrete stands, and no cover or shade for fans. Most stadia have ill-defined entrance and exit points, which can make it extremely difficult and dangerous to enter or leave. Unlike in Western Europe, where the clubs themselves own stadia or lease them from local councils, in Africa governments own, maintain, and control stadia. Clubs do not have the economic capacity to run and manage stadia of their own. This has led to decaying stadia, which are dangerous for both players and spectators in many ways.30 In Ghana, for example, many stadia were built in the 1950s and have seen only periodic renovation. Ghana’s National Sports Council owns playing fields scattered all over the country, but most of them are in deplorable condition. Nkawkaw Park in the Eastern Region has been declared a security risk, forcing the premier league team Okwahu United to move away from the stadium and play its matches at the Accra Sports Stadium.31 African governments have more pressing socioeconomic issues to deal with than to invest in stadia except when they are hosting continental tournaments or, as in the case of South Africa in 2010, a global event like the FIFA World Cup. The run-down condition of stadia and football infrastructure in general keeps fans away, meaning less revenue for the clubs. The ill-kept pitches also affect the level of football being played, and in some cases the inadequacy of a stadium has made it difficult for TV networks to broadcast matches held there. Only a few countries, such as South Africa and Morocco, boast world-class stadia and facilities. Other countries, such as Angola, Burkina Faso, Egypt, and Mali, have benefited from hosting the Africa Cup of Nations, which has led to building and renovation of some stadia. On the whole, however, football infrastructure in Africa is in a poor state. This makes attending games a dangerous endeavor, and people lose their lives at stadia on a yearly basis. As Pannenborg notes, “the prime causes” of stadium deaths are “contempt for spectator safety on the part of the administrators and nonprofessional security personnel … Mismanagement worsens the situation (people are allowed in when the venue is already full). Sound management practices and well-trained personnel could do much to alleviate these problems.”32 Little money is going into improving security or increasing the comfort of fans within stadia. This adversely affects attendance, which in turn hurts local clubs, most of which depend on gate takings for survival.

Globalization of European football In most contemporary African societies today there are communities of highly committed fans of European football. These communities manifest most of the conventional characteristics of football fandom. Despite the fact that they are geographically distant from the teams and players they support, these fans seem to

Commercialization of football in Africa 213

identify deeply with, and support, their favorite European football teams. Thus, European football continues to have a sustained following in African societies. Indeed, as has been observed by Richar Vokes and Leah Komakoma the English Premier League in particular has become an important element of mainstream African sociocultural reality.33 Vokes explores the social effect of European football on a rural region of Uganda called Bugamba. He observes, When moving around the various shops and bars that constitute the main hub of social activity in these parts, one today hears not only the more usual talk of crop yields, school fees and the like, but also conversations about the past week’s English Premier League results, movements in its transfer market, and its various teams’ chances over the months ahead.34 The growth of popularity of European football games and the rise of these various fandoms means that local clubs have to compete with such accomplished teams for attendance on Saturday and Sunday afternoons when games are broadcast. The proliferation of satellite TV broadcasts, sports bars, and football-watching spaces across Africa means that fans are often more in tune with the happenings in the English Premier League or the Spanish league than even their own local leagues. Fans are opting for a television-mediated experience, and for football that they view as superior and of better quality than local live football. This “electronic colonialism” of sporting spaces has seriously affected local teams even in terms of merchandise: fans would rather be seen in Barcelona or Manchester United T-shirts than in those of local players and teams.

Poor marketing and selling of football Most African teams are guilty of not engaging adequately with their fan base.35 There seems to be too much secrecy involved, and fans tend to have little or no idea about the clubs because many clubs do not produce digital information about themselves. The typical fan is thus disengaged. In Zimbabwe, there are few if any events or publicity ceremonies to bring fans closer to their teams. The clubs do not produce match-day publications or any form of press release to inform fans and attract new supporters. The majority of clubs do not have online strategies to sell their brands, which has meant that European-based clubs with such infrastructure dominate online sports merchandising in Africa. Most clubs do not maintain websites; in fact, even some leagues have no Internet presence. A search for websites of local leagues in countries such as Central African Republic and Chad yields no results. Due to a lack of skill and capacity in the use of social media within African football structures, it is underutilized for marketing, advertising, and attracting new fans. On platforms such as Facebook, football-related topics and news are shared and debated through fan-created pages. Websites and social media can provide channels to make and sell club-branded products. Most African teams do not have shops or places to sell such branded products as replica shirts, cups, books, and scarves. In

214 M.K. Chiweshe

South Africa, the Orlando Pirates and Kaizer Chiefs have lucrative deals with Nike and Adidas, respectively.36 Most clubs have none of these branded products, yet across Africa the merchandise of English and Spanish clubs is bought by millions.

Lack of government support Government support for football has to be understood within a context of competing needs. Investment in football is often left to the government, which cannot sustain support for the sport. Governments across Africa are finding it difficult to increase investment in football. My analysis shows two key reasons for this. First, the governments simply do not have the funds. Most African countries are facing economic challenges, and government expenditure in sport is gradually reducing. To better understand this, consider the following examples of 2008 sports-related revenues: Adidas and Nike reported revenues of US$16.2 billion and US$18.6 billion, respectively, and the European football leagues had revenues of $23 billion. These figures are astounding when contrasted with data on the African economy: in 2008, only 15 African states had a GDP higher than US$15.6 billion.37 Second, FIFA has a standing policy of noninterference by governmental or other external parties into football matters; this rule makes governments skeptical about investing in a sport they have little control over. The FIFA rule, which states that each member of the association shall manage its affairs independently and without influence from third parties,38 was put in place to combat political and government interference in football matters, especially by authoritarian regimes.39 Stories of imprisonment and torture of players and officials highlight the necessity of this rule.40 However, the rule has often been cited as a bullying tactic by FIFA to circumvent global democratic processes. Talk of good governance in football is often viewed by FIFA as an intrusion into its established prerogatives of power, privilege, and sovereignty of football authorities. 41 Strict enforcement of the policy has led to suspensions of countries whose governments interfered in football matters. Football authorities are thus untouchable, as Bob Munro, vice chairman of the Kenyan Premier League, argues: “In many cases, ‘government interference’ is because of gross mismanagement and/or corruption in the national football association. But who suffers most when FIFA imposes a ban? Sadly, it is the innocent clubs, coaches, players and referees. What judicial or other regulatory process in the world punishes the innocent victims?”42 The Football Kenya Federation was banned in 2004 by FIFA because the Kenyan government had interfered with football matters. After the High Court tried to remove football authorities for various instances of corruption and maladministration, including failure to produce annual audited accounts for four years and allegations of misappropriation of funds, the country received a two-year ban from FIFA. Football clubs in the country had tried without success to lobby FIFA to intervene as the corruption worsened, yet when the judiciary stepped in, FIFA was quick to act. The government of Kenya was forced by FIFA to ignore its High Court and reinstate the officials, which is curious given the wide-ranging debates on national sovereignty.43 National criminal laws and processes were thus set aside when it came to football administrators because of FIFA’s rule of government noninterference.

Commercialization of football in Africa 215

Dearth of talent in African leagues: Migration of African footballers Scarlett Cornelissen and Eirik Solberg argue that because of robust commercialization and development of the game, Western European leagues have become the epicenter of football. This has led to a widespread international system of football migration as these leagues attract the world’s best talent.44 Africa has thus become a rich source of football talent for European clubs, a fact that “is mostly viewed as exploitative and an extension of neo-imperialist relations between the continent and its former colonial powers.”45 Talented players tend to move toward football teams that offer premium payment. Poorly funded African leagues cannot compete with the type of financial rewards on offer in Europe. Zimbabwe and southern Africa in general have also suffered a talent drain to the increasingly commercialized South African league. There are more than 30 Zimbabweans plying their trade in South Africa.46 Many of the best emerging talents from the country will at one time find themselves in South Africa. This negatively affects the nature of the competition in many African leagues. Devoid of their best players, leagues such as those in Zimbabwe are increasingly dependent on older players, with little of the new talent remaining at home. There are a few exceptions in countries such as Egypt and South Africa that can afford to pay high salaries and thus retain local talent. Football labor thus flows from poor countries to the economically powerful leagues that pay huge salaries.47 One rather alarming issue to emerge from the commercialization and migration of football players is that boys are being taken from their countries to academies in parts of Europe where they are lured by dreams of riches and glamour; however, most never make it in football. Studies have noted how this migration is accentuating neocolonial exploitation.48 Jonathan Wilson, writing for The Guardian in 2012, argued: “Talk of a new slave trade is unhelpfully emotive, but there is an unpleasant traffic in vulnerable and often naive young players, and it seems hard to deny that the demands of the European market have shaped the tactical development of African football.”49

Lack of sponsorship and commercial endorsements Football across the world has proved to be a highly sponsored arena with many corporations seeking to be associated with the game. European clubs such as Real Madrid and Manchester United have become global brands with massive global fan bases. This growth in popularity and exposure has triggered high interest among sponsors as they pursue global marketing strategies; for example, in 2014 Manchester United signed a seven-year, US$559 million contract with Chevrolet.50 Sponsorship in football now runs into billions of dollars, yet African clubs remain largely excluded from this exponential rise in sponsorship. In 2013, the Nigerian league had no title sponsor, which left teams in a precarious situation. Except for a few notable exceptions, such as the Kaizer Chiefs and Orlando Pirates in South Africa, the vast majority of African clubs do not have large sponsorship deals. Some of these clubs do have huge followings, which usually is the main attraction for

216 M.K. Chiweshe

corporate sponsors, but they lack transparency; furthermore, a history of maladministration and generally corrupt tendencies in most African football spaces has deterred sponsors. Most leagues do not have proper professional structures and thus have no idea of the worth of their brands. In European football, sponsorship has grown from equipment kits, to jerseys and other apparel, and now to naming rights of stadia and training complexes. African clubs do not have stadia to sell naming rights to, very few have kit sponsors, and shirt sponsorship deals remain very low in terms of value.

Prospects for the commercialization of football in Africa After painting such a bleak portrait of African football, it is important to note that there are actually many positive aspects that can be used as pillars for the commercialization of the game. These positives include growing television revenue. For instance, Egyptian TV and other channels in Egypt pay as much as 8 million Egyptian pounds (US$1.3 million) to show league games. The South African league signed a deal in 2007 with sports television broadcaster Supersport worth 1.6 billion rand (US$195 million) for broadcast rights.51 Yet these remain exceptional cases in a context where television revenues elsewhere in the world are increasing for football teams. One way to attract television money is to continue growing the fan base of African football clubs. Only then will TV executives see the potential viewership. Football will remain popular and part of the social fabric in Africa. However, the development of the game as a viable commercial proposition will never be realized if the current organizational malfeasance continues. Africa can forget crowning a world champion at the highest level, and infrastructural development will not improve in the foreseeable future, unless institutionalized corruption is rooted out.52 There is also scope for governments to do more in promoting the commercialization of football clubs through various incentives, such as tax breaks on business enterprises, removal of import duties on sports equipment, and tax breaks for corporations that sponsor football teams. Such measures can be instrumental in increasing the revenue of clubs. The CAF has taken the lead in this through the Club Licensing Regulations of 2012. The regulations provide a clear basis for improved regulation in African football if implemented, monitored, and enforced effectively on an ongoing basis. From a club structuring perspective, the regulations require clubs to provide evidence of their incorporation and public registration, and also to prepare independently audited accounts. Besides addressing such issues as transparency and accountability, the commitment of clubs to legally binding statutes, rules, and regulations should result in an increase in corporate confidence.

Conclusion This chapter has aimed to further the discussion of football as a developmental issue in Africa. Football is very important to the African economy through its impact on employment and income—and its potential is huge. Football can increase earnings

Commercialization of football in Africa 217

and employment and improve communities in various ways. It can keep children off the streets and lower crime. Improvements like these, however, can only happen if football is commercialized and run in a professional manner. At the moment, by any standard, African football is in a bad state. Lack of investment in grassroots structures is putting the future of the game in jeopardy. Much football infrastructure remains in a dilapidated condition despite the large sums of money that continue to flow into the African game. Corruption is slowly suffocating the game across the continent. Dealing with corrupt individuals has been made difficult by standing FIFA rules barring government interference in regulation of the sport.

Notes 1 Liz Timbs, “South African Football’s ‘Crisis of Monumental Proportions,’” January 21, 2014, accessed May 14, 2016, http://www.footballiscominghome.info/hosting/bafana-chan2014/. 2 Richard Peltz, “The Sportswriter as Development Journalist: Covering African Football,” Ecquid Novi: African Journalism Studies 31, no. 2 (2010): 155. 3 Tshimologo Boitumelo, “Our Football Has Commercial Value,” April 29, 2005, accessed November 23, 2016, https://www.mmegi.bw/2005/April/Friday29/29174637157.html. 4 Nelson De Oliveira, “Africa on the Field,” n.d. [2014], accessed November 5, 2016 http s://sites.duke.edu/wcwp/research-projects/africa/africa-on-the-field/. 5 Farayi Mungazi. “What Is the Point of Caf?,” BBC Sport, October 19, 2006, accessed December 2, 2016, http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport2/hi/football/africa/6065606.stm. 6 Kick Off, “Issa Hayatou to Remain in Power, CAF Age-Limit Lifted,” April 7, 2015, accessed December 23, 2016, http://www.kickoff.com/news/54334/issa-hayatou-to-r emain-in-power-caf-age-limit-lifted-; Pulse Ghana, “Hayatou Re-elected as CAF President,” March 11, 2016, accessed December 12, 2017 http://www.pulse.com.gh/sp orts/today-in-history-hayatou-re-elected-as-caf-president-id4790417.html. 7 Osasu Obayiuwana, “CAF Elections Show a Need for Improved Governance in African Football,” Play the Game (2013), March 15, 2015, accessed November 4, 2016, http:// www.playthegame.org/news/comments/2013/caf-elections-show-a-need-for-imp roved-governance-in-african-football/. 8 Associated Press “Hayatou’s Reign Ends as African Soccer Head and FIFA VP,” March 16, 2017, accessed March 23, 2017, http://www.dailymail.co.uk/wires/ap/article-4319552/Za nzibar-admitted-member-African-soccer-body.html#ixzz583JZbL2i. 9 Peter Alegi, “Football in South Africa,” March 22, 2011 (originally written in 2004), accessed August 23, 2016, http://www.sahistory.org.za/article/football-south-africa. 10 Yomi Kazeem, “Three Lessons Africa Can Learn from South Africa’s Soccer League,” May 13, 2015, accessed August 3, 2016, http://venturesafrica.com/three-lessons-africa-can-lea rn-from-south-africas-soccer-league/. 11 Ibid. 12 Sandlanders and Supporters Direct, “Soccerex Report,” November 29, 2014, accessed October 4, 2016, http://www.supporters-direct.org/wp-content/uploads/2014/11/Sa ndlanders-Soccerex-Report.pdf. 13 Nigel Matongorere, “Dynamos Ownership Wrangle Intensifies,” Daily News, September 7, 2016, accessed December 12, 2017, https://www.dailynews.co.zw/articles/2016/09/ 07/dynamos-ownership-wrangle-intensifies. 14 Charles Rukuni and Evelyn Groenink, Killing Soccer in Africa: FAIR Transnational Investigation, August 2010, accessed August 26, 2016, https://fairreporters.files.wordpress. com/2011/11/fair_2010_soccer_proof7.pdf. 15 Ibid. 16 Adam Masters, “Corruption in Sport: From the Playing Field to the Field of Policy,” Policy and Society 34, no. 2 (2015): 111.

218 M.K. Chiweshe

17 Rukuni and Groenink, Killing Soccer in Africa, 3–4. 18 Arnold Pannenborg, “Football in Africa: Observations about Political, Financial, Cultural and Religious Influences” (NCDO Publication Series), Sport and Development, no. 7 (2010):1–46. 19 Robert Price, “Politics and Culture in Contemporary Ghana: The Big-Man Small-Boy Syndrome,” Journal of African Studies 1, no. 2 (1974): 173. 20 Pannenborg, “Football in Africa.” 21 Thabani Khumalo, “Football’s Rotten Core Must Be Excised,” City Press (April 7, 2013). 22 Rukuni and Groenink, Killing Soccer in Africa, 6. 23 John Sugden and Alan Tomlinson, Badfellas: FIFA Family at War (London: Mainstream Publishing, 2003). 24 Rukuni and Groenink, Killing Soccer in Africa, 6. 25 Brian Oliver, “Making a Killing Out of African Football,” The Guardian (October 24, 2010), accessed November 8, 2016, http://www.theguardian.com/football/2010/oct/ 24/corruption-african-football-fifa. 26 Rukuni and Groenink, Killing Soccer in Africa, 9. 27 Oliver, “Making a Killing.” 28 Pannenborg, “Football in Africa,” 14. 29 Ponga Liwewe, “The Challenges Facing African Football,” July 9, 2010, accessed October 23, 2016, http://www.theafricareport.com/News-Analysis/the-challenges-fa cing-african-football.html. 30 Alvin Madzivanzira, “Stadiums Call for Attention,” March 18, 2016, accessed November 4, 2016, http://www.thepatriot.co.zw/old_posts/stadiums-call-for-attention/. 31 PANA, “Poor Stadiums Handicap Ghana’s Struggle for Soccer Honours,” April 18, 2002, accessed November 4, 2016, http://www.panapress.com/Poor-stadiums-handicap -Ghana-s-struggle-for-soccer-honours–13-458547-18-lang4-index.html. 32 Pannenborg, “Football in Africa,” 19. 33 Richard Vokes, “Arsenal in Bugamba: The Rise of English Premier League Football in Uganda,” Anthropology Today 26, no. 3 (2010): 12; Leah Komakoma, “An Investigation into Fan Identity among Supporters of the English Soccer Premier League in Lusaka, Zambia,” (Master’s thesis, School of Journalism and Media Studies, Rhodes University, 2005). 34 Vokes, “Arsenal in Bugamba,” 10. 35 Tomvil, “Reasons for Poor Stadium Attendance,” December 3, 2014, accessed August 13, 2016, http://www.soccerladuma.co.za/news/articles/categories/get-published/rea sons-for-poor-stadiumattendance/194423. 36 Soccer Laduma, “Chiefs and Nike to Continue Partnership,” April 10, 2016, accessed February 25, 2018, https://www.soccerladuma.co.za/news/articles/categories/south-a frica/kaizer-chiefs-extend-deal-with-nike/228787. 37 Eugene Augustus Cooper Jr., “The African Football Development Model,” Impumelelo: The Interdisciplinary Electronic Journal of African Sports 7 (2011), accessed November 3, 2016, https://www.ohio.edu/sportsafrica/journal/volume7/cooper.html. 38 Callum Farell, “FIFA’s Non-interference Rule is Holding Back Serious Investigations,” HITC Sport, January 22, 2012, accessed October 13, 2016, http://www.hitc.com/ en-gb/2013/05/24/fifas-non-interference-rule-is-holding-back-serious-investigatio/. 39 Manase Chiweshe, “The Problem with African Football: Corruption and the (Under) development of the Game on the Continent,” African Sports Law and Business Bulletin 2 (2014): 28. 40 In countries such as Iraq (under Sadam Hussein), where the president’s son was once the football association president, athletes were tortured and beaten for poor performances; see Duncan Mackay, “Torture of Iraq’s Athletes,” The Guardian, February 2, 2002, accessed March 23, 2017, https://www.theguardian.com/sport/2003/feb/02/athletics. duncanmackay1. 41 Khumalo, “Football’s Rotten Core.” 42 Oliver, “Making a Killing.”

Commercialization of football in Africa 219

43 Chiweshe, “Problem with African Football,” 29. 44 Scarlett Cornelissen and Eirik Solberg, “Sport Mobility and Circuits of Power: The Dynamics of Football Migration in Africa and the 2010 World Cup,” Politikon 34, no. 3 (2007): 295. 45 Ibid. 46 Anesu Chakanetsa, “Talent Drain Stunts Soccer Development,” July 28, 2016, accessed August 28, 2016, http://www.thepatriot.co.zw/old_posts/talent-drain-stunts-soccer-de velopment/. 47 Joseph Maguire and Robert Pearton, “Global Sport and the Migration Patterns of France ’98 World Cup Finals Players: Some Preliminary Observations,” Soccer and Society 1, no. 1 (2000): 179. 48 See John Bale, “Three Geographies of African Footballer Migration: Patterns, Problems and Postcoloniality,” in Football in Africa: Conflict, Conciliation and Community, ed. Garry Armstrong and Richard Giulianotti (New York: Palgrave, 2004); Paul Darby, Gerard Akindes, and Matthew Kirwin, “African Football Labour Migration to Europe and the Role of Football Academies,” Journal of Sport and Social Issues 31, no. 2 (2007): 143–61. 49 Jonathan Wilson, “The Question: Is African Football Progressing?,” The Guardian, January 17, 2012, Sports sec. accessed November 4, 2016, https://www.theguardian.com/ football/blog/2012/jan/17/the-question-is-african-football-progressing. 50 Chris Smith, “Most Valuable Deals in Soccer,” accessed November 23, 2016, https:// www.forbes.com/sites/chrissmith/2016/05/11/the-most-valuable-sponsorship-deals-insoccer/#2329d1e59e0e. 51 Ufuoma Egbamuno, “Africa’s Top 5 Football Soccer Leagues,” July 30, 2012, accessed December 6, 2016, http://venturesafrica.com/africas-top-5-football-leagues/ 52 Liz Timbs, “South African Football’s ‘Crisis.”

15 ISLAM AND THE FOREIGN OTHER Representing the alterity of Hakeem Olajuwon Munene F. Mwaniki

Introduction First- and second-generation immigrants from African countries are often overlooked in research concerning black America. Despite the rapid growth of their communities, the average white American is unlikely to have direct contact with or knowledge of persons from African countries. This invisibility, however, has not meant that people are unfamiliar with the various stereotypes of Africa and Africans. These stereotypes accomplish much more than the (re)marginalization of Africa(ns); they play a critical role in the ongoing maintenance of global antiblack racism. As sport is one of the first cultural spheres in which recent immigrants can make their presence known in their host society, its study—particularly concerning the discursive constructions and meanings of race—remains an imperative.1 Oftentimes, the implication here for the black immigrant, the foreign black Other, is that their foreign blackness must be discursively accounted for vis-à-vis the native black Other. I use the term “native black” to refer to black populations that have an established history and experience with struggle within a particular country. Hence, against the backdrop of a popular sport such as basketball in the United States, dominated by African Americans, the discursive construction of the foreign black Other will betray the maneuvers of white supremacy in keeping blackness as a whole marginalized. It is this point of this chapter to provide some insight into how antiblack racism and Islamophobia are maintained in sport. To do this, I examine the media representation of the first black African to play in the National Basketball Association (NBA), Hakeem Olajuwon. Olajuwon immigrated to the United States in 1980 and began his collegiate basketball career as a walk-on at the University of Houston. After two National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA) championship-game appearances, Olajuwon would begin his Hall of Fame NBA career in 1984 as the

Islam and the foreign Other 221

first overall draft pick of the Houston Rockets. History records him as one of the greatest centers to ever play the game, and his creative and difficult-to-defend post moves are immortalized in NBA circles as the “Dream Shake,” after his nickname “The Dream.” However, the study of Olajuwon is significant not because he was a great basketball player, but because Olajuwon and the small group of Africans he played with during his career, notably Dikembe Mutombo and Manute Bol, were among the first foreign players to play in the NBA. The combination of Olajuwon’s success and the novelty of his situation make the study of his representation worth our academic interest. Not only does Olajuwon represent a black African immigrant in a U.S. sport dominated by African Americans, but also a black African Muslim in the historical period leading up to and through the events of 9/11. In the pages that follow, my concern is how U.S./Western media discursively constructed and represented Olajuwon as a black African Muslim Other, and the racial/religious politics of maintaining, or altering, his representation over the course of his career. Moreover, I am also interested in the “cracks,” or inconsistencies, within the hegemonic narrative about Olajuwon that give us glimpses into how, as an immigrant, he navigates his host society. Historically, black African athletes have tended to be subsumed under the category of “African American” for research purposes. This problem is reflected in U.S. society more broadly, where blackness is conflated with African Americans and hence the increasing diversity of the black American population is glossed over. What makes Olajuwon a compelling site of analysis are his multiple subject positions as a black African Muslim immigrant, where Muslim communities are, like black African communities, often ignored, marginalized, and assumed to be homogeneous in the West. Therefore, the study of Olajuwon can give us insight into how and when Western media discourses use his different subject positions in the creation of his representation. More broadly, this research tells us how different types of alterity are used to know and construct the Other in Western societies. I have structured this chapter in the following way. First, because Olajuwon ends his career as a well-known Muslim athlete, I discuss the aforementioned homogenization of Islam in a literature review that also includes previous research concerning Olajuwon and Islam in sport. Second, I discuss two broad themes— under the headings Constructing the Foreign Black Other and Maintaining Essentialized Islam—that trace the development of Olajuwon’s representation from black African immigrant to devout Muslim. Finally, I conclude with a discussion of the complexities of Olajuwon’s representation and the contradictory nature of representing the foreign black/religious Other in Western media.

Covering Islam, black immigrant Muslims, and Abdul-Rauf There is perhaps no better way to start a conversation about representation than engaging with the work of Edward Said. In his book Covering Islam, Said outlines his concerns that the mere label of “Islam,” which he keeps in quotes to avoid reinscribing its presumed totality, will end up being a form of attack that leads to

222 M.F. Mwaniki

violence. He explains that Islam defines a very small percentage of what actually goes on in the Islamic world. Essentially, it is simply erroneous to trace everything back to an abstract “Islam” given the billions of followers; dozens of countries, societies, traditions, languages; and indefinite number of personal experiences that comprise the Islamic world or the experience of being a Muslim. Those (Orientalists) who want to explain that Islam regulates Islamic societies from top to bottom, that the “mosque ” and state are a coherent whole, and that all “Islamic” countries are the same are not only wrong, but the broad nature of such analysis would not pass for any other racial ethnic group.2 Said is also concerned with the conflation of “Islam” and fundamentalism, something that he saw becoming increasingly problematic within Western media coverage. This linking, or fusion, of Islam with fundamentalism is then linked to other things that the “West,” itself not homogeneous, must fight wars against, like “terrorism,” “communism,” or drugs and crime. With this kind of representation, “Islam” becomes an entire way of life, read and absorbed, supposedly governing the daily lives of Muslims in an unproblematic way. Hence, if Muslims know nothing else and think about nothing else than Islam, then it becomes a static religion, effectively trapped in the Middle Ages, when such representations in the West were originally constructed. This kind of thinking holds Islam as inherently backward and traditional as compared to the West, which has presumably overcome religion, secularized, and is thus greater than the sum of its parts. The Islamic world is thus viewed as in need of modernization like the rest of the so-called Third World.3 Said further argues that the construction of Islam in the West is an ideal type that we need to be careful how we discuss. For him, there is no coherent notion of “Islamic History” because it is too large and varied to be talked about as a whole. It is also very difficult to talk about such subjects as government and law purely in Islamic terms because they are always local and particular. Thus, what the West often sees as a “return” to Islam, or a rise in fundamentalism, always consists of a number of political actualities and not a coherent, religion-wide, political movement. We must never forget that U.S. political and economic intervention in the Third World during and after the Cold War often squashed native nationalisms and helped put native allies of the United States into power. With the decline of those Western-backed regimes and dictatorships, movements in those countries have at times clamored for or deployed “their” version of Islam for various reasons, often as a presumed return to the “true” Islam—an Islam untainted by Western influence.4 In this way, we can consider such calls as no different from other kinds of “returns” in Western societies that rely unproblematically on “pure” or “traditional” forms of identity such as religion, nationalism, or race.5 Black African Muslims must confront this essentialized Western notion of “Islam” upon immigrating to the United States. Already considered “Black” upon entry, these immigrants quickly find themselves at the bottom of the U.S. racial hierarchy. Although their racialization is often resented, as it is among many black immigrant groups, black African Muslims have been active, particularly in

Islam and the foreign Other 223

urban areas, in using their religion to resist downward mobility and create a social niche for themselves.6 Zain Abdullah explains that black African Muslims engage in cultural practices that include the wearing of African and Arab forms of dress, the naming of African businesses after religious leaders, the use of religious symbols (such as halal), and participation in religious-themed parades.7 While the scope of these activities differs between groups of African Muslims and black Muslims more broadly, they represent an attempt to negotiate a racialized position (both in the U.S. context and that of Islam) and create a positive religious identity. However, despite these efforts, black African Muslims and their activities are often seen and described solely as African, and their religious identities are ignored or brought into question as a matter of authenticity since they are not considered Arab.8 These ideas come to bear when considering the representation of Olajuwon in a variety of ways. Two articles in particular help bring out more of the complexity in the representation of Islam in Western media. Specifically, these articles revolve around Olajuwon’s intersection with Mahmoud Abdul-Rauf and the latter’s refusal to stand for the U.S. national anthem before games for politico-religious reasons during the 1996 NBA season. Mahmoud Abdul-Rauf (born Chris Wayne Jackson), an American whose interest in Islam began in college, was eventually suspended by the NBA for his actions and received criticism from Olajuwon for not knowing proper Islam. Sohail Daulatzai and Zareena Grewal explain through an examination of this incident how Olajuwon was framed by the media and through his own (mediated) discourse as the “good” Muslim, while Abdul-Rauf represented the “bad” Muslim. The full social, historical, and political complexity of Muslim Americans’ lives and their diverse communities of worship were in that moment collapsed into a single coherent whole. Olajuwon’s media framing and his own respectability politics thus worked to construct an ideal, or “true,” Islam that is amenable to American society.9 In the NBA, a league with a history of players who converted to Islam, or to the Nation of Islam specifically (of which Abdul-Rauf was, often mistakenly, not a part), Islam has effectively been used as a tool to divert attention away from race as an issue in the league. As Daulatzai argues, the NBA has actively containerized racial meanings into other categories such as class, masculinity, and nation. This is important because it means the history of African Americans and their affiliation with Islam, intertwined with the history of racism and the civil rights movement, is erased. By framing the actions of Muslim athletes—for example, Abdul-Rauf’s criticisms of U.S. imperialism—as Islam versus America, the NBA avoids questions of race and racism in a predominantly black league.10 Because of the importance of the incident concerning Abdul-Rauf and Olajuwon, I will return to it in more detail later. Now we turn to an exploration of the two main themes that emerged though the course of my analysis; I will attempt to tease out and explain what the complexities of Olajuwon’s discourse and representation can tell us about nationality, religious identity, race, and the perception of Islam in the West.

224 M.F. Mwaniki

Constructing the foreign black Other Though “Islam” eventually comes to define Olajuwon, his initial representation is that of a novel, or exotic, figure on the collegiate basketball scene. Thus, Olajuwon first becomes known to us through his construction as a foreign black Other. This distinction is important because Olajuwon’s construction, and his own discourse, as a foreign black Other demonstrates later consistencies with his Othering as a Muslim. It is necessary to recognize, then, that Olajuwon’s later representation as an ideal Muslim is not without its own history due in part to the agency of Olajuwon. In this section I draw attention to the contradictory manner of Olajuwon’s representation as a foreign black Other. In parts, I read against that representation using Olajuwon’s autobiography, Living the Dream: My Life and Basketball. Autobiographies are themselves selective (re)presentations; however, when read against the backdrop of his media representation, Living the Dream gives us insight into how Olajuwon interpreted events in his life. Perhaps the main drawback of relying on Olajuwon’s autobiography is that it was published in 1996, six years before he would retire (and thus excludes later career events).11 My approach to the construction of the foreign black Other as regards Olajuwon can be summarized by what Michelle Wright writes in her book Becoming Black. In discussing the creation of the black Other in Western philosophy, Wright explains that while various Others can result from different forms of racism, such as “the Other-from-within” (native blacks) and “the Other-from-without” (foreign blacks), they are “conflated rather than discretely defined and, most importantly, that one racial group can have different types of alterity placed on it depending on which textual agenda locates it as Other.”12 This kind of complexity is similar to what Stuart Hall, invoking Frantz Fanon, tells us when he explains that the black subject is constructed by racism as both inferior and an object of desire/envy, both “noble savage and violent avenger.”13 Hence we should expect the representation of Olajuwon to invoke his foreignness and blackness in competing and contradictory ways over time and throughout his career. The first ways in which Olajuwon is represented are through his foreign black Otherness or “Africanness.” Not only is his foreign Otherness represented in both casual and explicit ways, but Nigeria, and often Africa, itself is also represented through Olajuwon. Casual, mundane, or everyday ways of labeling Olajuwon as “foreign” are seen throughout his career. Repeated reference to, for example, “Olajuwon, a Nigerian who helped the Cougars make the NCAA Final Four the past three seasons …”14 is a common way of labeling Olajuwon not only as a foreigner to the United States, but also as different and separate from those he is playing with, predominantly African American men. More explicitly, Olajuwon is defined through an exotic, naive, and unrefined innocence in line with the tropes of noble savagery. Against the native black background of college and professional basketball players, often derided as “spoiled” or “thuggish,” such representations further define Olajuwon as different and separate from what “we” are accustomed to. As Roy Johnson explains:

Islam and the foreign Other 225

There is a precious innocence surrounding Akeem Abdul Olajuwon … On the floor, he is a picture of raw talent in bloom … He epitomizes a simple, sincere love for the game that other players only speak of having. That love, combined with the hard work at mastering a game he has played for only four years, has made the 20-year-old Olajuwon, who came to the United States from Africa, the spotlight of the Final Four this weekend in Albuquerque, N.M. … Speaking in a soft, low tone, he seemed almost shy as he stood towering above a group of reporters, trying to answer politely each question put to him.15 Mary Waters and John Arthur argue that black (African) immigrants often receive better treatment and certain social advantages over native blacks because they do not reflect the racial history of America back at itself.16 Black immigrants, for their part, are often keen to stress their differences from native blacks in hopes of avoiding the racism, or the obsession with race, they see native blacks experiencing. In his autobiography Olajuwon explicitly recalls engaging in activities that distanced him from his African American teammates. For example, he writes about how he purposefully wore traditional Nigerian clothes and bowed when greeting (white) Houston alumni boosters in order to create his own identity.17 Being different, being “Nigerian” or “African,” was thus very important for Olajuwon during this time. He also recalls wanting to engage with African Americans but being rebuffed at times because of that very same clothing and behavior around white alumni. Further, he had difficulty understanding African American slang and objected to their stereotypes of Africa, as he tells us that he was sometimes called “the big African” and heard comments/jokes about “living in huts.”18 Because of these issues, Olajuwon states that he spent a lot of social time in college with a Bahamian basketball player, Lynden Rose, and his friends because they had a culture similar to “Africans” and clued him in to issues of racial prejudice. As with many black immigrants, Olajuwon attempted to navigate U. S. society in different ways during his college and early professional years due to his experiences with race and racism and his outsider status. In returning to the construction of Olajuwon’s Otherness, these acts of labeling, themselves an exercise of power, might be more innocent if “Africa” were not already so heavily stereotyped. Stereotypes of Nigeria and Africa are invoked through Olajuwon as he, his representation, is burdened with the stereotypical descriptors of Africa, the “problems” of African countries and cultures, and the many peoples who live in Africa. As an example we can look to this description of Lagos as an urban African city: [Lagos] is urban Africa at its most horrendous … The place is a symbol of capitalism run amok … Emaciated livestock pitifully nosing into a jam-up of cars, trucks, taxis and “mammy wagons”—half-van, half-bus, all-rattletrap. Horrid junkyards, firetrap shantytowns, broken-down marketplaces and inactive construction sites dominate the landscape. Smoke and grime and foul odors are staples of the atmosphere. Bribery and hyperinflation are staples of the economy, DO NOT URINATE HERE signs are plastered all over the exterior walls of the bus station.19

226 M.F. Mwaniki

The persistent racist stereotyping of African countries over time has done little to encourage Western confidence in black African self-governance, as if it were an ahistorical venture.20 There is a collapsing here of the urban African experience, which is itself often excluded in representations of Africa, to “its most horrendous,” dangerous, foul, and corrupt. Despite some acknowledgment of Olajuwon’s middle-class upbringing (see below), discourses of African depravity position him in two particularly important ways to the West. First, he is positioned as a beneficiary of the West “finding” him and helping him come play basketball in the United States, where he is educated, fed, conditioned (disciplined), and given appropriately sized shoes and clothing. Discursively, he is thereby “saved” from a life in Lagos/ Nigeria/Africa, and the West can reinforce its ideologies of meritocracy and (civilized) benevolence. Second, these discourses, examined over the course of his career, position Olajuwon as deserving of the opportunity he was afforded and applaud his hard work in overcoming his assumed background of poverty. These discourses inherently establish a hierarchy of struggle against the predominantly native black background of collegiate and professional basketball players, many of whom have difficult backgrounds but are presumed to benefit from American opportunities. It is worth remembering that Olajuwon comes into the NBA during a time when it was considered to have an image problem because it was becoming “too black” for white consumers. It was also during the presidencies of Ronald Reagan and George H.W. Bush, the former having played a significant role in the racialized backlash against social welfare programs—not to mention the neoliberal policies that increased unemployment and a crack epidemic that ravaged poor black communities.21 Against this backdrop, which continues throughout the 1990s, Olajuwon is repeatedly positioned as a case for what is “good” in the NBA. However, despite the overwhelming presence of the aforementioned discourses, counterexamples did exist within my samples, even though they were exceedingly rare. The quotes below represent the kind of articles that attempted to counter the oft-assumed, or implicit, ignorance and poverty of a black man from Lagos, Nigeria (or Africa). Many of these articles are sympathetic and genuinely try to delve deeper into Olajuwon’s history, yet it will become clear that there are still some areas where they reinforce certain stereotypes. [Olajuwon] is a middle-class young man with skills so pure, so spontaneous he is frightening. Olajuwon did not walk barefooted around the continent and wear a leopard skin. He is from Lagos, principal city in Nigeria … He learned that because he is a black foreigner, he was assumed to be ignorant. “People don’t think I can count. They say, this is a quarter, 25 cents. It is four in a dollar. They don’t think I can look on the coin and see for myself it is 25 cents.”22 As Stuart Hall observes, what replaces invisibility, or not being represented, is not full representation but rather a segregated, carefully managed visibility.23 Hence, there is a certain amount of admission that while Olajuwon faces racism

Islam and the foreign Other 227

and discrimination related to his foreignness, he remains an exception. Though Olajuwon does not walk barefoot or wear leopard skin, apparently someone, perhaps everyone else, in Africa does. He is praised for knowing Western languages, but no mention is given of the colonial history guaranteeing that fact, while the languages of Nigeria are downgraded to unnamed “dialects” (the exact number of languages Olajuwon speaks is also inconsistent). Olajuwon’s experience is constructed here more as an exception, rather than the norm, or one of many possible experiences in Lagos/Nigeria/Africa, as the focus is on him and his family. If such articles were to more fully explore Nigerian culture and society, even if just to focus on urban life and the mere existence of a middle class, they may carry more progressive potential than singling out Olajuwon. We should expect a certain level of complexity in the representation of the foreign black Other as compared to the native black Other. In that regard, the foreign black Other is always “in danger” (overdetermined) of falling into local conceptions and stereotypes of blackness. Although Olajuwon was favorably constructed early and late in his career, a set of events in the late 1980s and early 1990s began to turn his representation in the opposite manner. Numerous fights on the court, harsh words for teammates and management, and a personal life reportedly spinning out of control started to turn the discourse around Olajuwon toward being critical and raised questions about Olajuwon’s demeanor and temperament. For all intents and purposes, Olajuwon’s representation as a “malcontent” came to a head in the summer of 1988. The following excerpt sums up the events: Akeem has been a Dream. But lately he’s beginning to look like Freddy Krueger. It’s a real “Nightmare on Elm Street” over at The Summit … If Olajuwon isn’t assuming the role of coach and making demands about the Rockets’ offense, then he’s playing personnel director and suggesting wholesale changes. If he isn’t swapping lawsuits with former companion Lita Spencer, then he’s got his hand out looking for more money or his fist raised to deck a TV cameraman. Then there are the veiled threats to pack up his slam dunks and go to Italy.24 Worth mentioning here are Jackie MacMullan’s recollections of these times, which revolve around Olajuwon’s demand for a new contract in the early 1990s. Her article was written after Olajuwon’s return to Islam and thus provides an important overlap demonstrating how he had once again become a role model in the league: “There was a time when he did complain—loudly. Two years ago, Olajuwon wanted a new contract, and the people of Houston began wondering if he’d ever be happy. They said he was greedy, and some said he should go back to the jungle and see how much money he’d make there. Ugly? Yes, it got very ugly.”25 MacMullan gives us a fleeting glimpse into how people and fans were making sense of Olajuwon and his attempts to negotiate a new contract. Certainly, athletes in general are treated with a certain degree of disdain when it comes to their social exploits and contract demands. However, the notion that Olajuwon should “go back” demonstrates a racist, antiblack sentiment toward African immigrants that

228 M.F. Mwaniki

treats them as disposable, that they only exist in the West because “we” (in reality, the culture of white supremacy) allow them to.26 Immigrants should feel “lucky” that they are in the West and take what is given to them, or else they are free to go back to their “jungles” (Africa), a space always already discursively overdetermined as pure wilderness. Indeed, though Olajuwon would go through a period of representation as a problem athlete, a “malcontent,” he finished the latter part of his career being represented as a role model in the NBA against a backdrop of “greedy” and “selfish” (mostly African American) players. The following quotes are from after Olajuwon rededicated himself to Islam and won two NBA championships. [Hakeem Olajuwon] stands for everything right with sports. He is a giant, towering above the muck and the mayhem of greed, ego and all the things we detest … He deflects praise, redirecting it to teammates. Hakeem speaks English, French and four Nigerian dialects. But you won’t hear him talking trash. That would violate his dignity … This noble Nigerian can remind the world that there’s more to the NBA than self-absorbed Ugly Americans.27 Given the prestige that comes with being an elite professional athlete, it becomes understandable how black African migrant athletes, particularly those who succeed early in their careers, are seemingly welcomed with open arms. As the excerpts above demonstrate, it is precisely the foreign Otherness, the lack of “Americanization,” that privileges the African athlete above other native black athletes. This “welcoming,” however, is really a tendency to portray the foreign black Other in a childlike, simple-minded, or innocent manner, in short, a noble savage (or noble Nigerian, as it were). These tendencies invoke a long history in the West of representing black men and women as children, with the adult alternative being to frame them as physical or sexual threats to whiteness.28 Blackness has always occupied a tenuous position in the United States, and in the West more broadly, as we often see that “acceptance” is conditional on the basis of adherence to and performance of white normative standards and expectations of obedience.29 Black immigrants who fail to continually validate this inhuman ideal are quickly subsumed into the more negative stereotypes of blackness that we often see of native blacks. Hence blackness remains marginalized, subhuman, and no black athlete truly transcends race.

Maintaining essentialized Islam In his autobiography Olajuwon admits that he drifted from religion early in his career and was not as dedicated as he later felt he should have been. The culmination of events detailed earlier—domestic problems, on/off-court fights, and allegations of drug use—in the late 1980s appears to have driven Olajuwon’s return to religion. When seeking to rededicate himself to Islam, he describes in his autobiography how he began reading the Koran, attending mosque, and having other religious meetings with, primarily, other immigrants to the United States from

Islam and the foreign Other 229

African and Arab nations. It was also during this time that he added an H to his name in order, as he explained, to bring it into accordance with Islam.30 After having invested himself for nearly three years, in 1991 Olajuwon took a wellpublicized pilgrimage (hajj) to Mecca. From there, Olajuwon’s status as a Muslim would be popularized and become a significant part of his representation, especially as he became a more popular player in the mid-1990s as the Houston Rockets found increasing success—ultimately winning back-to-back NBA championships in 1994 and 1995. For the rest of his career, then, Olajuwon was the de facto “authority” in the NBA on Islam, the person to whom media representatives would go to for everything “Islamic.” Hence “Islam” was added to Olajuwon’s representation of foreign Otherness. Yet, at different points he would be discussed as Nigerian or Muslim, but rarely both. Theoretically, this situation gave Olajuwon the opportunities to try to clear up some of the harmful stereotypes of Islam and Muslims. However, Olajuwon’s insistence on his version of Islam being the only acceptable, or “proper,” version is problematic in that it is an “ideal” version of Islam that Western media are willing to accept. Because of this approach Olajuwon ends up acting as an apologist for Islam and attempts to police the actions of other Muslims. For example, Olajuwon was given uncontested space to talk about, and pass judgment on, the actions of Mahmoud Abdul-Rauf. As mentioned previously, Abdul-Rauf refused to stand for the American national anthem and flag before NBA games as a politico-religious stand against a “symbol of tyranny and oppression.”31 When the media asked Olajuwon about the incident, he told them that “Mahmoud either misunderstood the Koran when he read it or he was given bad information or bad interpretations from other people.”32 Later, when asked about Louis Farrakhan, leader of the Nation of Islam (NOI), Olajuwon explained, “He is not teaching Islam. The call of Islam is not based on race or color but is universal. It is available to humanity, not to specific people.”33 Further, Olajuwon describes in his autobiography how he once visited boxer Mike Tyson, who was then in jail for rape, because he had heard that Tyson had converted to Islam and wanted to make sure he had learned it properly. Olajuwon’s latent fear again seems to be that Tyson was a member of NOI. He also recalls his experiences and conversations with African Americans about Islam, specifically NOI, early on in his immigrant experience. He explains that once he learned about the philosophy of NOI, he stopped having conversations with its members and he denounced NOI for not practicing proper Islam. Olajuwon’s approach to the practice and political utilization of Islam in a right or wrong manner ends up marginalizing the political history that gave rise specifically to NOI, but more broadly conflates black American Muslims and the Nation of Islam. The latter process is evidenced by the salient media assumption, on the one hand, that Abdul-Rauf was a member of NOI. Yet, on the other hand, because of the general confusion around Islam, it was at times assumed that AbdulRauf was Arab, or African, and thus foreign, dangerous, and capable of being deported.34 By shifting the conversation to Islam and its correct practice, or “use,”

230 M.F. Mwaniki

the radical message otherwise contained in the words and actions of Abdul-Rauf, or Farrakhan, for that matter, or even of Malcolm X (see below), are neatly devalued and ignored. The examples below offer Olajuwon’s explanations of his faith and decision to seek U.S. citizenship. In them, Olajuwon’s worldview is inextricably tied to his faith. “I recommitted myself to my faith,” Olajuwon said. “Islam is a way of life. It’s a complete code of life. It covers all areas, and explains to you the proper way to handle every situation. This is the solution to all problems, and a way for you to fight for justice and fairness and peace.” … [Olajuwon] drifted away from his faith when he became a college basketball star in the U.S. … In 1991, Olajuwon made the holy pilgrimage to Mecca in Saudi Arabia … Olajuwon compares his pilgrimage to the journey Malcolm X made to Mecca, a trip that gave Malcolm a deeper understanding of his religion.35 As with most media interviews, we would ideally like to see more of what Olajuwon thinks, but important questions are unasked, nor is the information voluntarily given. During his playing career, Olajuwon was never questioned by the media on his assertion that Islam is the answer to all problems. “Islam” is reinscribed as absolute and unchanging, leaving no space for those who inevitably practice and experience it otherwise. Regardless, it is clear that religion is an important part of his identity that prohibits any sort of affiliation, or primacy, based on racial, ethnic, or national ties. Yet, Olajuwon was never pushed to account for the contradiction in his becoming a U.S. citizen as it concerns the inherent privilege of the act and his conflation of it with being a “good” person. Daulatzai explains that becoming a U.S. citizen not only allowed Olajuwon to play for Dream Team III in the 1996 Atlanta Olympics, but also opened the door to more endorsement deals, something that Olajuwon had sought throughout his career.36 Given the latter quote above, it also appears that becoming an American citizen eased Olajuwon’s travel, especially considering that he began making more frequent trips to the Middle East. That act in itself is somewhat transgressive in that it constructs citizenship as more of a tool for crossing boundaries than a basis for love of one’s country; however, the hierarchy of American versus Nigerian citizenship, and thus humanity, remains unchallenged. Yet, for his part, Olajuwon tells us that he genuinely felt that Americans had made him one of their own, and that by becoming a citizen he was repaying the love he had received over the years.37 The media may not have questioned Olajuwon on these points, but Dikembe Mutombo did; as a contemporary of Olajuwon in the NBA, he once criticized Olajuwon in the media for being “too busy being an American” and thus having an apparent lack of interest in African causes.38 Olajuwon’s response (again, in the media) to Mutombo is telling, as he takes noticeable offense, questions Mutombo’s motives, and wonders why Mutombo would want to represent a place (“Africa”) where people are killing each other in wars for power. Ultimately, he explains that another Muslim is more of a brother, and knows him better, than someone who is

Islam and the foreign Other 231

Nigerian but not Muslim.39 Mutombo and Olajuwon clearly approach the subject in different ways. Islam is certainly a part of Olajuwon’s and Africa’s heritage (West Africa and Nigeria in particular), but Mutombo is more interested in issues of racism and a Pan-African outlook, not in Olajuwon’s more narrow reading of “African” problems. In contrast, Olajuwon’s more pan-Islamic perspective privileges religion over issues of race and nationality. Olajuwon ends up explaining that he does return to Nigeria and prefers, in line with his practice of Islam, to do his charitable acts anonymously so as not to draw attention. Unfortunately, the subject is dropped and never publicly appears again after the two have a private conversation. While the intricacies of this history are interesting, we actually learn very little about Islam through this interaction. Furthermore, stereotypical notions of “Africa” as a place of endemic warfare/killing are given legitimacy through Olajuwon’s comments, while Mutombo is given no space (at least in this exchange) to contradict his assertions. Instead, this moment between Olajuwon and Mutombo is actually the process of normalizing, or reinscribing, a particular form of Islam. Olajuwon’s lack of a progressive political message and active condemnation of “different” ways of being a Muslim make his version of Islam “safe,” insofar as that is possible, for the U.S. mainstream. Despite the inconsistencies that arise when reading Olajuwon, it is clear that Islam and his identity as a Muslim provide a way for him to navigate his social reality. However, Olajuwon constructs for us, in a front-stage manner,40 an Islam in line with the romanticized version of the Orientalists, which is static, exotic, traditional, and thus essentialized.41 Accordingly, the media are already primed to accept and validate his discourse. Hence we already “know” what “Islam” Olajuwon practices because of its Orientalized existence within Western society. In his autobiography, there is no mention of Olajuwon facing discrimination or harassment for being a Muslim, and he purports that he, in part, became an American citizen because America is where he “found” Islam.42 I argue that Olajuwon knew very well the stereotypes of Islam and Muslims and actively stayed away from controversial statements. As Grewal explains regarding the Abdul-Rauf suspension, many Muslim Americans, including African American Muslims and immigrant Muslims, distanced themselves from Abdul-Rauf in order to avoid political scrutiny.43 However, as Michael Hedges reports, Olajuwon raised eyebrows in 1995 for stating at a Muslim Arab Youth Association meeting that “America needs Islam, Islam is the only solution and the only way of life … The morality of America is almost bankrupt. There is no morals [sic].” Hedges also reports that Olajuwon spoke to the same crowd about his attempts to convert NBA players to Islam in order to be happier with their lives.44 Aside from Olajuwon’s statements being semantically similar to what you may hear in churches throughout the Bible Belt of the United States (and right-wing media in general), the Muslim Arab Youth Association and other organizations to which Olajuwon donated money were later linked to Western-defined terrorist groups, including Al Qaeda and Hamas. Hedges, reporting on these donations at the time, brought Olajuwon and his activities into the public spotlight, where he was forced to defend his work in spreading Islam. Although Olajuwon was

232 M.F. Mwaniki

absolved of any intentional wrongdoing, it is again a reminder how the duality of colonial Othering can quickly change sides. That Olajuwon never expressed an opinion such as the one above in any media interview is an indication that he was aware of when to publicly engage in some discourses and disengage from others. It perhaps follows, then, that in my research Olajuwon never publicly raises the issues of discrimination and violence toward Muslims in America. Despite such silence, Olajuwon served as a role model, something he actively cultivated, for Muslims in Houston and elsewhere. A few newspaper interviewees talked about how the presence of Olajuwon drew him and his family to basketball on the common basis of Islam: Musab, 16, follows basketball religiously. “I am proud to be Muslim when I see him play.” … “When you look at most role models, you like what they do, but when you meet them or find out about their personal lives, you realize they’re different from you, and some things they do, you can’t do,” says Faraaz Ahmed, 12. “But if he’s Muslim, it’s just perfect.” … Muslim kids have a lack of visible role models in this country,” believes Abdulrafi, father of eight. “Now I can say to my kids, I don’t mind if you become a basketball player, as long as you model yourself after him.”45 Articles of this kind are exceedingly rare, yet despite its obvious partiality, it is important because it shows that Olajuwon, or the representation of Olajuwon, can have significant meaning to other Muslims within the West. The assumed foreignness of Islam by Western media means that the very existence of Muslim American communities is hidden in a subtle manner—similarly to black African communities. Yet Olajuwon, and athletes like him, allow people to create or maintain a type of identity and imagine themselves as part of a community in ways that resist their marginalization, which resonates with the historic (diasporic) meaning of African American athletes.46

Conclusion What I found in my research is that Hakeem Olajuwon can be considered doubly foreign in his representation. He is a black foreigner and a religious foreigner, and therefore his actions and their representation stand to impact one or both of those positions at any given time. What is perhaps most remarkable is that although Olajuwon was labeled a Nigerian Muslim at times, his race and religion were never consistently fused. Hence Nigeria (or Africa) was not inherently considered Islamic, and Islam was not inherently considered Nigerian (or African); the long and ongoing history between the two gets erased in a broad sense but also locally in the U.S. context. There, Olajuwon’s activities within, and meaning to, the Muslim and Nigerian communities in the United States is obscured because of his foreignness. This process means that, because both Islam and Nigeria are conceptually outside the United States, the media largely fail to recognize that these populations are always already internal to the West.

Islam and the foreign Other 233

Further, Olajuwon’s status as a “good” Muslim or “good” black is contingent on adherence to certain appropriate behaviors and discourses. As we see when he does not adhere to such behaviors, he—that is, his representation— falls into stereotypically deviant notions of blackness and “Islam.” I argue that Olajuwon must adhere to certain “acceptable” discourses of Islam in order to avoid being stigmatized. At all times, his foreignness puts him at risk of exclusion from a country in which he is a citizen. Citizenship in this regard is thus separated from full belonging, from “being” an American, and indeed Olajuwon is rarely referenced as an American or even a Nigerian American. Instead, he remains constructed outside of the nation through being defined as African/ Nigerian and/or Muslim. What we are left with is a complex and contradictory mode of representation. As a black African Muslim, Olajuwon is at times represented in such a way as to remarginalize the native black athletes he played with in the NBA, as well as other Muslims. Precisely because of his Otherness, however, Olajuwon can only occupy a tenuous and temporary position as a “model minority immigrant.” Although Olajuwon claims to feel American and fully embraces the United States, it does appear to elude him to some degree that his class position and celebrity status insulate and privilege him from the everyday hardships of people with similarly marginal subject positions. If he is aware of such issues, he never tells us, but it appears that he is also never asked the appropriate questions that would give us such information. As Jim Denison and Pirrko Markula note, Western media press conferences tend to be a self-serving exercise not conducted in the interest of the athletes involved.47 It is worth mentioning, however, that both Dikembe Mutombo and Manute Bol, Olajuwon’s contemporaries, were at least vocal on the hardships within their respective countries and publicly active in trying to bring attention to those issues. The outcome is a media representation that attempts to fix and essentialize an identity, or meaning, around Olajuwon. He is either an African or a Muslim, but cannot be both as there are difficulties in reconciling the two because of the “Islam” Olajuwon (re)presents. As Abdullah explains, West African Muslims are often seen as “not truly” Muslim because of how they practice Islam, the general conflation of Islam with all things “Arab,” and their stereotyping as black Africans.48 This kind of labeling reinforces static notions of identity and group division that are damaging to the creation of a progressive politics because they naturalize and dehistoricize social categories. Despite Olajuwon’s career ending some time ago, the consistency in the ways he was represented through nearly two decades demonstrates the entrenched nature of industry norms in what is now global media sport.49 Until this mode of representing the black/Muslim Other in the West moves away from its essentializing and marginalizing defaults, we will be stuck trying to unite ourselves on those same categories which have now long been fractured by a multitude of identity formations.

234 M.F. Mwaniki

Notes 1 Andrei Markovits and Lars Rensmann, Gaming the World: How Sports are Reshaping Global Politics and Culture (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press). 2 Edward Said, Covering Islam: How the Media and the Experts Determine how we see the Rest of the World, rev. ed. (New York: Vintage Books, 1997); Edward Said, Orientalism (New York: Pantheon Books, 1978). 3 Said, Covering Islam. 4 Ibid.; Edward Said, “Representing the Colonized: Anthropology’s Interlocutors,” Critical Inquiry 5, no. 2 (1989): 205–25. 5 Stuart Hall, “New Ethnicities,” in Stuart Hall: Critical Dialogues in Cultural Studies, ed. David Morley and Kuan-Hsing Chen (New York: Routledge, 1996), 440–49. 6 John Arthur, The African Diaspora in the United States and Europe: The Ghanaian Experience (Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2008); John Arthur, Invisible Sojourners: African Immigrant Diaspora in the United States (Westport, CT: Praeger, 2000); P. Kasinitz, J. Mollenkopf, M. Waters, and J. Holdaway, Inheriting the City: The Children of Immigrants Come of Age (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2008); Mary Waters, Black Identities: West Indian Immigrant Dreams and American Realities (New York: Russell Sage, 1999). 7 Zain Abdullah, “African ‘Soul Brothers’ in the ’Hood: Immigration, Islam, and the Black Encounter,” Anthropological Quarterly 82, no. 1 (2009): 37–62. 8 Ibid. 9 Z. Grewal, “Lights, Camera, Suspension: Freezing the Frame on the Mahmoud AbdulRauf–Anthem Controversy,” Souls 9, no. 2 (2007): 109–22; S. Daulatzai, “View the World from American Eyes: Ball, Islam, and Dissent in Post-Race America,” in Basketball Jones: America above the Rim, ed. T. Boyd and K.L. Shropshire (New York: New York University Press), 198–214; Mahmood Mamdani, Good Muslim, Bad Muslim: America, the Cold War, and the Roots of Terror (New York: Doubleday). 10 Grewal, “Lights, Camera, Suspension”; Daulatzai, “View the World from American Eyes.” 11 While Olajuwon’s autobiography ends early, my research covers his career and into retirement. Therefore, we do not necessarily get Olajuwon’s interpretation of events after 1996 as his thoughts are filtered through the media and the questions they ask. 12 M. Wright, Becoming Black: Creating Identity in the African Diaspora (Durham, NC: Duke University Press), 31. 13 Hall, “New Ethnicities,” 445. 14 “Olajuwon to Turn Pro,” San Diego Union-Tribune (April 28, 1984), C11. 15 Roy Johnson, “Olajuwon Charms and Dominates,” New York Times (March 29, 1983), B5. 16 Waters, Black Identities, 143–144; Arthur, Invisible Sojourners, 75–77. 17 H. Olajuwon and P. Knobler, Living the Dream: My Life and Basketball. (New York: Little, Brown and Company, 1996) 18 Ibid., 95. 19 Curry Kirkpatrick, “Houston’s Akeem Olajuwon Came Out of Nigeria to Give A New Meaning to the Term ‘Faze Jhob,’” Sports Illustrated, November 28, 1983, https://www. si.com/vault/1983/11/28/627321/the-liege-lord-of-noxzema 20 Charles Mills, Blackness Visible (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1998). 21 T. Boyd, Young, Black, Rich and Famous (New York: Doubleday, 2003). 22 J. Denberg, “Akeem Has Been ‘The Dream’ Come True for Rockets; Becoming a Dominant NBA Center Has Come Naturally for Olajuwon,” Atlanta Journal and Constitution (May 29, 1986), E07. 23 Stuart Hall, “What Is This ‘Black’ in Black Popular Culture?” Social Justice 20, nos. 1–2 (1993): 104–15. 24 F. Blinebury, “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Olajuwon,” Houston Chronicle (September 3, 1988), Sports sec., 1. 25 J. MacMullan, “Dream Season: Politics Aside, Houston Center Hakeem Olajuwon is Playing Like a World-Beater and Looking Like an MVP,” Boston Globe ( January 12, 1994), 49.

Islam and the foreign Other 235

26 Lewis Gordon, Bad Faith and Antiblack Racism (Atlantic Highlands, NJ: Humanities Press International, 1995). 27 B. Miklasz, “After a Long Climb, Olajuwon Is at a Peak,” St. Louis Post-Dispatch (June 5, 1995), 1C. By the time this article was written, Olajuwon was already a U.S. citizen, but throughout my analysis he is still primarily referred to as Nigerian or African, never an American, which raises the questions of who is citizenship for, and who can really become a citizen? 28 Gordon, Bad Faith and Antiblack Racism; Mills, Blackness Visible; Charles Mills, The Racial Contract (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1995). 29 We might also think here of the experiences of Mahmoud Abdul-Rauf (NBA) and Colin Kaepernick (NFL), both of whom were effectively banned from their respective leagues and described as anti-American for their protests during the playing of the U.S. national anthem. 30 This did not go without scrutiny in the media. With a number of earlier African Americans converting to Islam, most notably Muhammad Ali and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Olajuwon’s “name change” was met with the kind of racist bemusement of “I don’t know what to call him anymore” or “here’s another one changing his name on us.” We might also point to the confusion in white mainstream media as to why Malcolm X dropped his surname. 31 R. Reilly, “Patriot Games: Mahmoud Abdul-Rauf Caused an Uproar When He Sat Out the National Anthem,” Sports Illustrated 84, no. 12 (1996): 76–77. 32 F. Blinebury, “A Real Treat: US Citizenship Provides Passport to Dream Team,” Houston Chronicle (July 14, 1996). 33 R. Marquand, “A Real Gentleman On and Off the Court, Hakeem Olajuwon’s Islamic Faith Keeps Him on the High Road,” Dayton Daily News (February 8, 1997), 6C. 34 Grewal, “Lights, Camera, Suspension,” 113–117 35 T. Blount, “Dream Come True; Reawakened Olajuwon Comes Full Circle in a Year Likely to End in MVP Honors,” Houston Chronicle (May 22, 1994), 25. 36 S. Daulatzai, “View the World,” 206–210. 37 Olajuwon and Knobler, Living the Dream, 241–242. 38 J. Denberg, “Bound and Split by Africa; Mutombo Yearns to Change Rockets’ Olajuwon on Issue of Charity to their Homeland,” Atlanta Journal-Constitution (February 17, 1997), 4C. 39 M. Murphy, “Olajuwon Sets Record Straight,” Houston Chronicle (February 25, 1997), 4 (Sports). 40 E. Goffman, The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life (New York: Doubleday, 1959). 41 Said, Orientalism, 40–49. 42 Olajuwon and Knobler, Living the Dream, 242. 43 Grewal, “Lights, Camera, Suspension,” 109–110. 44 M. Hedges, “In ’95 Olajuwon Said America Had ‘No Morals,’” Houston Chronicle (February 20, 2005), A14. 45 R. Yaqub, “Hakeem Nets Praise as Muslim Followers See Man Who Prays,” St. Louis Post-Dispatch (June 16, 1995), 10C. 46 Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities, 2nd ed. (New York: Verso, 1991); Ben Carrington, D. Andrews, S. Jackson, and C. Mazur, “The Global Jordanscape,” in Michael Jordan Inc.: Corporate Sport, Media Culture, and Late Modern America, ed. David Andrews (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2001), 177–216. 47 Jim Denison and Pirrko Markula, “The Press Conference as a Performance: Representing Haile Gebrselassie,” Sociology of Sport Journal 22, no. 3 (2005): 311–35. 48 Abdullah, “African ‘Soul Brothers’”, 44–49. 49 We see a similar process in how the Nigerian women’s bobsled team was represented in the lead-up to the 2018 Winter Olympics. Despite their being born, raised, and educated in the United States, they were rendered exterior (as simply “Nigerians”) through their participation for Nigeria without any input from the women themselves. Hence, at a time when U.S. media could have lauded another U.S.-born bobsled team

236 M.F. Mwaniki

participating in the Olympics, and the communities they come from, they are pushed out of the country entirely—conceptually speaking. Of course, the very structure of the Olympics works to reinforce nationalist discourses, which we know does little to give insight into how the second generation (in this instance) experiences identity or belonging. Munene Mwaniki, “Media Coverage of the Nigerian Women’s Bobsled Team will be … Complicated,” Engaging Sports, February 15, 2018, https://thesocie typages.org/engagingsports/2018/02/15/media-coverage-of-the-nigerian-wom ens-bobsled-team-will-becomplicated/; Munene Mwaniki, The Black Migrant Athlete: Media, Race, and the Diaspora in Sport (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2017).

16 AFRO-ORIENTALISM IN THE GLOBAL VILLAGE Media imaginations of South Africa and Africa in the coverage of the 2010 World Cup Shepherd Mpofu

Introduction In this chapter, I apply Edward Said’s Orientalism theory to explore how the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC Online) covered South Africa(ns) and Africa(ns) after South Africa won the bid to host the 2010 World Cup. Africa had ably hosted mega-events before, such as Cricket World and the Soccer Under 17 and Under 23 World Cups, although these rarely excite the global interest and media spectacle of the men’s senior soccer World Cup. I argue that the Western media (as represented by the BBC) Othered and Orientalized South Africa(ns) and Africa(ns) during the period under scrutiny. In cultural studies, media texts are analyzed to depict and problematize issues of representations of the Other (e.g., Orient). I transfer this concept to global media practices, specifically looking at the BBC and its coverage and imaginations of South Africa(ns) and Africa(ns). Also of importance in this chapter is the use of readers’ comments in reaction to the stories. This brings out the issue of journalism as a conversation in the globalization era, where technology enables readers to challenge journalists. My choice of the BBC is informed by its mainstream respectability as a model of independent national broadcasting. Methodologically, I collected stories from BBC online that were largely negative in their coverage of the country and continent. The analysis is predicated on issues of globalization—a concept that, undeniably, compels media practitioners to understand the world. Underlying the understanding and deconstruction of texts in the concept of representation of the Other is the approach known as critical discourse analysis, which is effective in media text critique. I propose that self-reflexivity and critical approaches can effectively be used to cover the Other without falling into the traps associated with covering the Orient in stereotypical and negative terms. This is said with full knowledge that media outlets have certain news values—that is, expectations

238 S. Mpofu

and templates on “the presentation of items, suggesting what to emphasise … omit and … give priority [to]” in selecting “items for presentation to the audience. News values are thus working rules, comprising a corpus of occupational lore which implicitly and often expressly explains and guides newsroom practices.”1 This has posed challenges to journalists’ autonomy especially where management sets editorial guidelines and makes decisions that have to be adhered to. Hegel’s portrayal of Africa in his Lectures on the Philosophy of History captures Europe’s imagination of Africa—as backward, cultureless, and centerless. He writes: “Africa has no place in any serious debates of and about the world. At this point we leave Africa, not to mention it again … it has no movement or development to exhibit.”2 Some global media representations of Africa have endorsed the prejudices that Hegel presents and validated them through their one-dimensional stories, all in an attempt to qualify the myth of the “dark continent.” Even where attempts are made to humanize Africa, the idea of Africa as mysterious always pops up. Images of Africa are largely informed by outdated school textbooks, the entertainment industry, church missionaries, and the news media. My current research contests the single-angled imagination and portrayal of Africa (ns) and South Africa(ns) as something that cannot be justified in this global world. Research suggests that there has been a consistency in terms of portraying Africa negatively in global media as a dark continent.3 Ultimately, an impression of Africa as a “crocodile infested dark continent where jungle life has perpetually eluded civilization” (to cite one of the more outlandish mischaracterizations) is created and religiously adhered to by the West.4 Edward Said argues: “All knowledge that is about human society, and not about the natural world, is historical knowledge, and therefore rests upon judgment and interpretation. This is not to say that facts or data are non-existent, but that facts get their importance from what is made of them upon interpretation.”5 This assertion positions the media as among the most crucial institutions for shaping people’s perceptions of the Other. Said’s magnum opus Orientalism is relevant in this analysis, as it casts light on how the Western centers of authority and power dominate, shape, reshape, and have “authority over the Orient.”6 The particular focus of Said’s thesis is on the imaginations and construction of the Middle East in U.S. media and institutions of power. However, his theory can be transposed into this study with some relevance; hence I deploy it herein as Afro-Orientalism. Afro-Orientalism is an application of Orientalism to an analysis of the coverage of (South) Africa by the BBC during the 2010 FIFA World Cup. More than three decades after its publication, Said’s book continues its currency in academic scholarship, and its main tenets and insights are far from being invalidated. This is not to dismiss its limitations and constraints. In Western eyes, Orientals “were rarely seen or looked at; they were seen through, analysed not as citizens, or even people, but as problems to be solved or confined.”7 The view that Said critiques has its roots in the history of conquest and domination of the Orient by the Occident. Therefore, the discourse on the Orient has always been based on narrow, overgeneralized portraits, imageries, and iconographies in the news and popular culture that have become accepted as conventional wisdom.

Afro-Orientalism in the global village 239

While such blatant forms of stereotyping and discrimination continue to exist, they have been joined by celebratory depictions of Africans, especially for the 2010 World Cup, where the African players were viewed as conquering returnees—heroes and ambassadors of Africa in the West. Largely, the World Cup was labeled as “Africa’s” World Cup by various media, local and global, as if Africa were one homogeneous country characterized by generalizations about crime, diseases, and violence. As this angle gains currency, it is then taken for granted, becoming a “reality” that cannot be easily disputed. Thus reporting the World Cup as “Africa’s” World Cup decontextualizes certain varied characteristics of Africa and Africans in general, and South Africa and South Africans in particular. Africa has long been referred to as the “dark continent” in the West, an “allusion not only to the skin colour of its inhabitants but to their ignorance of European ways.”8 Consequently, the image of Africa that has been constructed is “worse than incomplete and inaccurate.”9 Mega sporting events like the World Cup are typically witnessed by billions of people worldwide. In line with this, media outlets often send their best reporters and allocate huge resources to the coverage of such spectacles. This captures the argument that negative or uninformed coverage of South Africa(ns) during the 2010 World Cup was due to the (low) allocation of resources and personnel. The World Cup was politically, economically, and socioculturally relevant to the West and the whole world—hence the coverage of the event, country, and continent by global media. I argue that this portrayal of Africa(ns) and South Africa(ns) is a case of the global media treating the West as culturally and politically dominant in the current global geopolitical dispensation. The underlying argument in this chapter is that in this highly globalized and cosmopolitan world, some news reports are biased and unfair, Orientalist, and perpetuate the negative images and stereotypes that the former colonizing countries’ citizens (West) have regarding Africa partly because of the sources reporters tend to use.10

Constructing the Orient: BBC Online The ability of South Africa to host the 2010 World Cup was in doubt, especially in the Western media. These media and some Afro-pessimists argued that crime, HIV/AIDS, and poor infrastructure in Africa would make the hosting of the World Cup impossible. A few days before the World Cup, the BBC ran a story sensationally titled “South Africans to Forget about Sex and Beer during the World Cup,”11 a report that largely inspired this research. The overarching thesis of the report was that South Africans would forget about sex and alcohol and focus on the football extravaganza for the duration of the World Cup. The story was later pulled down from the website. Most of the stories on Africa, and specifically South Africa, echo in their imagination of the continent and country how colonists have viewed Africans. Underlying some of the reports about the Orient are the subtle messages that the peoples of the Orient cannot run their own lives, let alone host an event of such magnitude.

240 S. Mpofu

In April 2009, the BBC imagined South Africa as the most dangerous place in the world. It ran a brief story casting aspersions on the ability of the country’s police and courts to deal with crime. Readers were invited to comment on their experiences of crime in South Africa.12 In November 2009, an article titled “World Cup Heaven or Hell” by Simon Austin drew comparisons between the feasibility and safety of hosting the World Cup in the West versus in Africa.13 The article states: “The 2006 tournament was relatively stress-free … Thousands of supporters were able to make last-minute trips to Germany and they discovered excellent transport, plentiful accommodation and sympathetic policing when they arrived.” The article goes on to paint a picture of bad “non-graded” accommodations in South Africa. Things would have been better had the tournament been hosted in the West, Austin concludes. Moreover, “FIFA [Fédération Internationale de Football Association] has gone as far as to include Mauritius, which is a four-hour flight from South Africa, in its accommodation programme,” and rooms that “are available are likely to be expensive.” The fact that South Africa is five times larger than England proves to be a problem, according to the report, as teams will have to travel long distances for the matches. “Flights will be in short supply and expensive,” Austin declares. In May 2010, the BBC ran a report titled “How Dangerous Is South Africa?” that described the country as “a place where violent crime happens,” highlighting two cases of white men recently murdered in the country.14 The examples of Eugene Terreblanche, leader of the racist and white supremacist outfit Afrikaner Weerstandsbeweging, and Lolly Jackson, owner of the Teazers strip club, are used to highlight the “high” levels of crime representative of 18,000 murders a year. A graph comparing South Africa and the United Kingdom shows the former as having 18,148 murders a year while the latter has only 662 cases of murder, manslaughter, and infanticide combined per year.15 The report relies on an expert, Johan Burger, for the analysis and explanations of why South Africa is such a dangerous place. Besides fears of crime, according to another reporter, the country’s “seedy sex industry” poses a danger to the British fans who would solicit the services of commercial sex workers (the article refers to them as “prostitutes”). Fans are advised “to think long and hard before they engage in any sexual contact in this country … There are no definitive statistics … [but] … between 40 and 50% of sex workers may be HIV-positive. It’s a real health risk.”16 Africa is imagined as characterized by corruption, poverty, crowding, and easily excitable people. The construction of Mbombela Stadium in Nelspruit, South Africa is said to have been characterized by corruption and false promises. So degenerate is the leadership, claims the BBC, that it has awarded tenders to build the stadium through a corrupt process and neglected the community at the same time. In addition, the BBC suggests that the World Cup might have come a bit too early for South Africa, as the country overindulged in terms of spending on the tournament. The story says that after “Soccer City stadium has been swept clean and South African officials are nursing their post-tournament hangovers … the nagging headache” will not be “a result of overindulgence” but instead “the question [will be] over who is now going to pay for it all.”17 In an essay titled

Afro-Orientalism in the global village 241

“How to Write about Africa,” Kenyan novelist Binyavanga Wainaina observes that when they (Western writers) write about Africa, they have “African characters [who are] colourful, exotic, larger than life—but empty inside.”18 This observation fits well with David Goldblatt’s BBC article, which features an unflattering picture of South Africa’s president Jacob Zuma dancing, sarcastically captioned: “Will South Africa’s leader show the same impressive technique when it comes to balancing the books?” Clearly, the article suggests, the FIFA bid and all the spending was done without proper planning, which is implied as typical of African leaders.19 In an emotional story about the soccer legend Ndaye Mulamba from Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of the Congo), “Africa’s Abandoned Football Legend,” Andrew Harding of the BBC gives the impression that there are no success stories in African soccer.20 In reacting to the story, readers offered to give assistance to this man who now lives in the “impoverished, crime-ridden townships that surround Cape Town.” Besides calling attention to the neglect of former players by the African football community, Harding also suggests that, in terms of infrastructure, South Africa is a dangerous place and does not deserve the right to host the World Cup. In another story, meant to specifically advise tourists to be wary of road traffic accidents, the sweeping title of the piece, “Beware of South Africa’s Roads,” gives a picture of a country with high road carnage due to the roads being substandard. The story states: “last night’s car crash, and the earlier traffic incident involving British students, is a grim reminder that the biggest threat facing the fans—local and foreign—over the next few weeks is not crime, but South Africa’s appallingly dangerous roads.”21 The story is inspired by the deaths of some British students in a road accident, but does not give the context of the accident. The bus, according to other press reports, was top-heavy, and the driver failed to negotiate a curve. Only one student was wearing a seat belt; the rest, some of whom died, were not. The article ends by advising readers to “please watch out for big, badlydriven trucks … drunk drivers, unlit roads, poorly-signed road works, potholes, fourway stops, roundabouts, broken traffic lights, aggressive minibus drivers, broken-down cars on busy highways, kids playing in the road.”22 Moreover, the BBC questions: “Will the World Cup transform South Africa?” in a report that suggests this will be highly unlikely, since Africa’s problems are “typically African,” to wit: “there will also be some typically African chaos— transport going wrong, things starting late, VIPs stuck in traffic.” The report conflicts with one also run on the BBC’s Focus on Africa Magazine that recognizes “there may be the legacy of an improved transport infrastructure.”23 Besides the dangerous roads, Africa is a wild place; hence, “England [the soccer team] will faced [sic] many obstacles as they chase World Cup glory in South Africa, but here’s one they weren’t expecting—dealing with deadly snakes near their World Cup base. Killer pythons, spitting cobras, puff adders, and black mambas are known to be on the hunt around the Bafokeng Sports Campus in Rustenburg.”24 Alternatively, the first report could have been referring to transformation of culture and characters—that is, civilization. This could be interpreted as meaning that the World Cup is a global sporting event bigger than Africa, that only the civilized world could manage it.

242 S. Mpofu

Poverty is another recurring theme in most stories carried by the BBC online. This usually comes to the fore in the way certain areas around South Africa are described. In “Africa Spreads its Dreams under Ghana’s Feet,”25 also by journalist Andrew Harding, Yoeville, a formerly white suburb during the apartheid era, is said to have lost its glory partly because of the current caliber of its residents: blacks. It is now, according to Harding, “a cosmopolitan but dilapidated neighbourhood on the ridge overlooking Johannesburg’s city centre.” There fans sat in a bar and “the cheers and jeers came in French, Shona, and a dozen other languages, from a mixed crowd of Congolese, Zimbabweans, Ghanaians, and many others … Yoeville was once the trendy, bustling ‘Notting Hill’ of Johannesburg but an influx of poor immigrants from across Africa has changed it dramatically” in the past ten years, leaving the city “branded with an ugly reputation for muggings, Nigerian gangsters, and urban decay.”26 Most representations of South Africa and Africa by the BBC are of poverty. The Africans themselves essentially don’t exist, since they do not speak. They are given voice only when they are sharing their agonies. In the series “Football Shorts,” the BBC interviewed people from “all over Africa” on how they think the tournament will change their lives. The collection of interviewees is fairly narrow, as it targets “street food vendors, footballing grannies, sex workers, para-soccer players.”27 One Mama Dzedze’s place in Thokoza, a high-density South African surburb, is portrayed as “a place of enduring poverty … [characterized by] narrow, crowded streets.”28 On some significant matters, ordinary South Africans are silent. Officials, celebrities, or journalists speak for them; in some cases most Africans do not have a view, but the Europeans or officials do. A story titled “Sustained Display of Pure Joy,” about the debates surrounding the irritations brought about by the vuvuzela instruments, highlights this dynamic. Not only do they cause the ears of the BBC reporter Harding to be “numb,”29 but they disturb the television commentators and players, making it difficult especially for European audiences to hear. The noise made by this “African” instrument, according to this article, is “likened to a drone of a thousand bees or a herd of stampeding elephants”—of course, the trope goes, because African are so close to nature—that causes players not to “sleep at night because of the vuvuzalas,” and on the soccer field they “can’t hear each other.” For Cristiano Ronaldo, they caused concentration problems. Players and officials interviewed in the article are Ronaldo (Portugal), Jamie Carragher (England), Patrice Evra (France), Rich Mkhondo (World Cup spokesperson), and Sepp Blatter (FIFA president).30 Blatter’s Twitter update is quoted as saying, “I have always said that Africa has a different rhythm, a different sound.”31 Besides, in most narratives it is the official, powerful, and famous voice that is heard even on issues that concern the so-called poor. In a story entitled “‘Magic’ World Cup Python Seized in South Africa,” the owner of the captured python that was used to help fans’ teams to win is referred to only as “a traditional doctor,” and is not interviewed.32 Only the official voice of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (SPCA), Sarah Scarth, is interviewed. The python was seized “from a shack in Nyanga township where people visited the traditional doctor for consultations,” and to help their teams

Afro-Orientalism in the global village 243

win. No attempt is made to understand the woman and her action. In contrast, Paul the Octopus received rave reviews from the BBC, and the issue of animal rights abuse was not mentioned even once. In a story titled “Paul the Octopus—Scientific or Psychic?” the cephalopod is shown as clever and famous the world over. The octopus allegedly selects the winner of the upcoming matches, earning accolades from the media.33 Lastly, the imaginations of Africa as one huge country can be seen in the way FIFA’s Jérôme Valcke decried the poor ticket sales in Africa. He argued that the sales should be higher since the World Cup is a “real African World Cup.”34

Generalizations, interviewing patterns, and contesting content Referring to the World Cup as “Africa’s World Cup” was hardly a true representation, especially when one considers that Africa has more than 50 uniquely different countries. This generalization about African homogeneity feeds into stereotypical imaginations of Africa. In this study I use generalization and thin-sourcing as forms of exploring Afro-Orientalism in BBC stories. Generalization, in this context, means writing about Africa as if it were homogeneous, such as calling the event “Africa’s World Cup” based on the mere fact that the tournament was held in a country within the continent. Recognizing South Africa only in the context of Africa smacks of Othering. Any reportage that follows on the World Cup, according to the media and the audiences they serve, represents African stories and images. Thin-sourcing is privileging only voices that share and buttress the same stereotypical, implicit biases about a place, even before that place is explored by journalists or anthropologists. Sources are rarely drawn from outside the structures of sociopolitical and economic power. Moreover, readers’ comments in response to the BBC stories help highlight and challenge the Orientalist nature of the news and the imaginations of Africa as Other. It is difficult to tell where readers who make comments on online stories are located, but there may be some indication from their chosen pseudonyms and types of comments, and from the location and perceived audience base of the BBC in the West. Subsequently, reorienting the Oriental gaze is in order as a form of solution to positive or objective stories from the West about the Orient. Most of the negative BBC reports feed into the Afro-pessimist and Afro-Orientalist perspectives addressed earlier in this chapter. The relationship between Orient and Occident is that of power, domination, and varying degrees of “a complex hegemony.”35 Said’s Orientalism draws largely from Antonio Gramsci’s and Michel Foucault’s works. While Foucault offered Said tools and means of discursively articulating the relations between power and knowledge, Gramsci’s concept of hegemony “provided a way of explaining how the influence of certain ideas about the ‘Orient’ prevailed over others,”36 without the use of violence but through coercion. The BBC’s Afro-Orientalism has shown that it, as part of the global media, exercises some power over the Orient—South Africa(ns) and African(ns), to be specific. In this case, as the Occidental, the BBC takes a position of determining how the Afro-Orient is seen, described, and spoken about, and in some cases, whenever “it” speaks, then how it speaks.

244 S. Mpofu

The BBC’s reporting on the issues that are the concern of this study depict a system where there is a corporate way of “dealing with the Orient—making statements about it, authorizing views of it, describing it,” that fit into a set template.37 Using generalized and simplified descriptions in the South African/African context leads to severe stereotyping and results in South Africa(ns) and Africa(ns) being seen as, in effect, less variable and less complex than the Occident.38 It should be understood that generalizing, on one level, “offers reporters a convenient means to ascribe certain key qualities to the main participants of the news discourse without encumbering the reader with tedious details; on another, the selection and repetition of a particular generalizing attribute also hints at an underlying ideology that might have motivated the choice in the first place.”39 However, there is no justification for such reportage in this technologically advanced, globalized world. Technology in news media should help journalists to better cover and understand the world rather than perfect the fictitious imaginations and demonizing of the mysterious and “magical” Africa, as exemplified in the story of the “magical” python related earlier. Again, through technology the marginalized, voiceless citizens of the silenced world are able to speak up and challenge those depictions. Generalizations concerning Africans and their environment tend to “colour the perception of the meaning” of what those people do.40 Africa has been viewed as a wild and highly magical place; hence the soccer fans in Thokoza “roar” in celebration. The vuvuzela sounds are likened to bees and stampeding elephants, while the use of a python by a black woman speaks of “magic,” whereas using the octopus for match predictions is “scientific.” In addition, consistent with the old beliefs and imaginations that accompanied such films as Tarzan, wildlife roams the continent posing a danger to the English soccer team’s players. Nigerians in South Africa are labeled as “Nigerian gangsters,” who are part of the legion of foreigners that “jeers and cheers” in all languages other than English in Yoeville. That same legion of poor foreigners is responsible for the run-down condition of Yoeville, formerly an equivalent of Notting Hill. The Occident, in order to make itself appear superior and civilized, makes advantageous comparisons of itself to the Orient. The contradistinctions drawn between Notting Hill and Yoeville serve that purpose. A more effective storytelling form would be one that digs further and explains a plethora of social relations that have brought about poverty and urban decline in many African countries including South Africa, rather than viewing it as “an effect exclusively of factors present in the physical spaces which harbour poverty … This ideology masks the degree to which urban poverty is a function of social relations that transcend the discrete physical spaces wherein poverty occurs.”41 Clearly, the poor African immigrants and South Africa in general cannot manage a beautiful suburb as whites did during apartheid. This should not be surprising since South Africa is seen as home to the “typical African chaos” of inefficient and dangerous roads, buildings, and transport systems threatening the spectators and the VIPs attending the FIFA event. South African HIV prevalence statistics are pegged at 12 percent. However, one story suggested that the HIV prevalence rates were between 40 and 50 percent.

Afro-Orientalism in the global village 245

Evidently the journalists did not find time to research and question the health experts on the statistics. Subsequently, so long as the Occident speaks, describes, and studies the Orient, whatever is derived as a conclusion cannot be questioned and should be taken as reality. While the Occident has a sense of time and order, the Orient is synonymous with disorder—and thus the only place where one would find “transport going wrong,” “things starting late,” and so forth for the matches. These sweeping generalizations serve to perpetuate Orientalist views, stereotypes of the Orient, and us-versus-them binaries between the West and Africa. This, consistent with Teun Van Dijk’s arguments and conceptualizations of media racism,42 shows that the professional background and socialization of white Western journalists contribute to these types of social cognitions that tend to favor whites and disfavor blacks. The main argument here is that the more these generalizations appear, the more they gain meaning and currency as the truth about South Africa(ns) and Africa(ns). The thin-sourcing patterns obtain in a way that seeks to defeat the tenets of fair, balanced, and objective journalism in that there is no reliance on various sources, including the subjects in the constructing of stories. Quoting different sources, including the powerless Orient, balances, validates, and authenticates the story. Using a newsmaker’s believed or personal stereotypical trend of thought and argument renders a story “as incontrovertible fact.”43 Dependence on celebrities, officials, and experts on crime and general behavior in the Orient leads to an establishment of a skewed worldview, especially when these fit into a stereotyped image of Africa. Using quotes from officials, experts, and celebrities becomes a form of gatekeeping, admitting only the famous and powerful, while in the process shutting out the opinions of the common poor. For instance, in the story on crime referenced above, Johan Burger, a crime and justice researcher at the Institute for Security Studies in South Africa, is the person who is relied on for an expert opinion.44 The story does not examine how colonialism and segregated development led to a high crime rate in South Africa. In the story about the python,45 the woman who owns the snake who predicted winners to help gamblers in the World Cup is insignificant. The spokesperson for the SPCA, Sarah Scarth, whom the reporter conscripted to speak on her behalf, reproduced a familiar harangue against the “inhumane” treatment of animals. No interest is shown to the woman’s ways of doing things, in contrast to the handlers of Paul the octopus. Reader debates and comments on the stories can help highlight the power of the media and also challenge the Afro-Orientalist stance adopted by the BBC in its coverage of South Africa(ns) and Africa(ns) during the World Cup period. They largely reveal the cosmopolitan characteristics of the global village and, at the same time, challenge the age-old myths the Anglo-Saxon world holds about Africa. Academics needs to engage, critique, and contest such discourses because, as shown in the BBC’s reportage, Afro-Oriental discourses remain locked in an asymmetrical nexus of power relations and discourse. One BBC online reader, “Positive Change,” reacted thus to a story on the website:

246 S. Mpofu

Things which stand out in this post. 1) Townships in Cape Town just like most of South Africa are still poverty stiken [sic] and lack basic necessities yet, billions have been spent for this event which is nothing other than a few hard smiles for a couple of days. 2. The love of money by some African leaders. A member of the Congolese delegation escaped with money in 1974 and 20 years later funds raised by Cameroonians to support their team dissappeared [sic] between Yaounde and Washington. One thing stands out clear, African leadersip [sic] is still the colonial breed. They are corrupt and work against the interest of ordinary Africans. It is about MONEY, it is about EXPLOITATION and that is the world.46 This comment captures the overarching themes in the BBC’s reportage of Africa during the World Cup. However, it does not dispute the positive issues like quality of stadia and peace during the event. In the same vein, one reader, “Mzee-djimba,” reacted to a story about poor infrastructure saying, Andrew [BBC journalist] you already wrote an article about the South African roads and got into the knives of South Africans as much as you could, so what is this meaningless article all about? Everyone is very sorry for the lost [sic] of life on these accidents. However, you keep pushing your luck on bashing South Africa.47 In this reader’s take, the objective of most stories on the website, especially on negative issues, is to “bash” South Africa. In addition, while in some cases comparisons are drawn between European and African countries, in others comparisons are implied rather than stated. It is left to other readers to argue. For instance, “mefromsa” wrote a comment about the above-mentioned issue of roads saying: I see an article written by someone that woke up on the wrong side of bed … I am a South African, Driven all over the country. Nice roads, not the best, but during my 2 year stay in England, Ive [sic] seen worse. Ive [sic] also witness [sic] worse accidents on the M25 and definitely worse driving in the UK than here is sunny South Africa. Yes, there is things [sic] to watch out for, and the legendary mini bus taxis. But then, we are so good at driving, we know how to handle it. If you cant [sic] handle it, take the bus.48 In some cases, BBC online readers bring in comparisons that reporters/journalists fail to see or highlight. For example, a post by “Tigermilkboy” argues that the representation of Africa, while true, is unfair because readers are not clearly told about the global nature of most problems that seem to be affecting South Africa. He writes: I lived 20 years in the UK, 8 years in US, 2 in South Africa. Despite the reputation for violent crime in the US and South Africa, I have always felt safe and without fear. Yes, there is crime! But like London, Liverpool or Leeds the

Afro-Orientalism in the global village 247

worse [sic] crime seems to take place in neighbourhood pockets. I can tell you places in Leeds where I wouldn’t go after dark … I have only been a victim of crime in the UK.49 People who rely on media for information often take their advice without questioning the sociology of news production and a range of prejudices involved in the making of the news. “StewieJT” is one reader who believed the BBC stories were a true representation of reality: “I have to say that I’m seriously considering not going to SA, after planning to go since the last World Cup. I’ll be travelling on my own, and I think that the whole trip could be no end of hassle and expense, plus bad weather!” In addition, “Craig Allis” contends: The long and the short of it is this country is not safe … BUT when you are recommended a restaurant by your hotel that is across the street, but you shouldn’t walk there (50 yards) as it will not be safe, is this really a country that should be staging such an international tournament. I hope I am wrong, but maybe this tournament has come 10 years too early for SA.50 While there is some form of Afro-pessimism in the thinking of those who decided not to come, some were skeptical and still willing to defy the media stories and take “brave” steps to visit the country for the World Cup. For example, “David Younghusband” states that: “Me [sic] and two others have taken the brave step in going to SA which will be my first world cup trip.”51 This contestation among readers of the stories clearly helps highlight how the Occident imagines the Orient. In addition, it helps show how some news reports about Africa, as packaged by the media, enhance the stereotypes that Westerners have of Africa. For example, the assertion by “Craig Allis” that the World Cup came to South Africa ten years too early speaks volumes about how the media have helped in constructing imaginations of the backwardness of not only South Africa, but Africa as whole. This, I argue, is based on the BBC’s observation that there are some problems that are inherently African, where things will always go wrong. Afro-pessimism and Afro-Orientalism, as exercised in part by the BBC, show that wealthy Western countries, including former colonizing powers like the United Kingdom, want to view Africa as wild, backward, incapable of advancement, and still having to be discussed, described, and rediscovered by the Occident since she cannot tell her own stories.

Conclusion In this chapter I demonstrate that the BBC’s coverage of South Africa(ns) and Africa(ns) before and during the 2010 World Cup was biased in many ways. For example, portrayal of the African continent as one huge homogeneous “country” was not only inaccurate, but scandalously bad journalism. With today’s communications and wealth of knowledge, there is no excusefor such imaginations or portrayals of the Oriental Other. My premise in asserting this is that globalization,

248 S. Mpofu

defined as “the intensification of world-wide social relations which link distant localities in such a way that local happenings are shaped by events occurring many miles away and vice versa,”52 has changed the world so fundamentally that societies must understand themselves more fully and in more sophisticated ways.53 The Orient has been observed, studied, seen, objectified, and depicted as a cohesive entity, hence the assertion by a BBC report about “typical African chaos.” Africans have become synonymous, in this Western/BBC view, with irrationality, corruption, sexual immorality, and general lack of direction. Ultimately, there still persists a stereotype that Africans are an inferior lot—culturally backward, barbaric, peculiar, and unchanging.

Notes 1 Peter Golding and Philip Elliott, “News Values and News Production,” in Media Studies: A Reader, ed. Sue Thornham, Caroline Bassett, and Paul Marris (New York: New York University Press, 2009), 635. 2 Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, The Philosophy of History, trans. J. Sibree (New York: Dover, 1956), 117. 3 Beverly G. Hawk, ed., Africa’s Media Image (Westport, CT: Praeger, 1992), 4; Sheila Walker and Jennifer Rasamimanana, “Tarzan in the Classroom: How ‘Educational’ Films Mythologize Africa and Miseducate Americans,” Journal of Negro Education 62, no. 1 (1993): 3–23. 4 “Tears of the Sun and Nigeria: A Film Without Context,” https://www.pambazuka. org/arts/tears-sun-and-nigeria-film-without-context. Accessed on December 22, 2018. 5 Edward W. Said, Orientalism (New York: Pantheon Books, 1978), 3. 6 Ibid. 7 Ibid., 207. 8 Beverly G. Hawk, “Introduction: Metaphors of African Coverage,” in Africa’s Media Image, ed. Beverly G. Hawk (Westport, CT: Praeger, 1992), 4. 9 Ibid., 5. 10 Ella Shohat and Robert Stam, “From the Imperial Family to the Trans-national Imaginary: Media Spectatorship in the Age of Globalisation,” in Global/Local: Cultural Production and the Transnational Imaginary, ed. Rob Wilson and Wimal Dissanayake (London: Duke University Press, 1996), 145–170. 11 No longer available online. 12 “Have You Experienced Crime in South Africa?,” BBC News, April 16, 2002, accessed January 15, 2011, http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/talking_point/1924251.stm. 13 Austin Simon, “World Cup Heaven or Hell,” November 30, 2009, accessed October 3, 2018, http://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/simonaustin/2009/11/world_cup_heaven_or_hell.html. 14 Finlo Rohrer, “How Dangerous Is South Africa?,” May 17, 2010, accessed October 3, 2018, http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/8668615.stm. 15 Ibid. 16 No longer available online. 17 David Goldblatt, “Footing South Africa’s World Cup Bill,” June 4, 2010, http://news. bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/8718696.stm. 18 Binyavanga Wainaina, “How to Write about Africa,” Granta 92: 19 January, https://gra nta.com/how-to-write-about-africa/. 19 Hugh Sykes, “Stink of Scandal from South Africa’s ‘Giraffe Stadium,’” June 7, 2010, http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/10217817. 20 Andrew Harding, “Africa’s Abandoned Football Legend,” June 5, 2010, http://www.bbc. co.uk/blogs/thereporters/andrewharding/2010/06/africas_abandoned_football_leg.html.

Afro-Orientalism in the global village 249

21 Andrew Harding, “Beware South Africa’s Roads,” June 11, 2010, http://www.bbc.co. uk/blogs/thereporters/andrewharding/2010/06/beware_south_africas_roads.html. 22 Ibid. 23 Goldblatt, “Footing South Africa’s Bill.” 24 “World Cup 2010: Is There a Snake in the Grass? England’s World Cup Base Surrounded by Killer Pythons and Deadly Black Mambas, Mail Online (May 24, 2010), accessed January 15, 2011, http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sport/worldcup2010/article-1280883/WORLDCUP-2010-Is-snake-grass-Englands-World-Cup-base-surrounded-killer-pythons.html. 25 “Africa Spreads its Dreams under Ghana’s feet” BBC, June 30, 2010, accessed October 3, 2018, http://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/thereporters/andrewharding/2010/06/africa_sp reads_its_dreams_unde.html. 26 Ibid. 27 “World Cup: More African Football Shorts,” BBC, May 31, 2010, www.bbc.com/ news/10185651. 28 Ibid. 29 “Sustained Display of Pure Joy” BBC, June 12, 2010. Accessed October 3, 2018. http://www. bbc.co.uk/blogs/thereporters/andrewharding/2010/06/its_a_bright_crisp_winter.html. 30 “World Cup 2010: Organisers Will Not Ban Vuvuzelas,” BBC Sport, June 14, 2010, news.bbc.co.uk/sport2/hi/football/world_cup_2010/8737455.stm. 31 Ibid. 32 ‘“Magic’ World Cup python seized in South Africa,” https://www.bbc.com/news/ 10512183. Accessed on December 22, 2018. 33 “Paul the Octopus—Scientific or Psychic?,” BBC, accessed January 15, 2011, http:// www.bbcfocusmagazine.com/blog/paul-octopus-scientific-or-psychic. 34 “Fifa admit World Cup sales in Africa ‘poor’,” BBC, accessed January 2, 2019, https:// www.bbc.co.uk/news/10132613. 35 Bayoumi and Rubin, Edward Said Reader, 72. 36 Ibid. 73. 37 Ibid. 38 Peter Teo, “Racism in the News: A Critical Discourse Analysis of News Reporting in Two Australian Newspapers,” Discourse and Society 11, no. 7 (2000):7–48. 39 Ibid., 16. 40 Ibid., 17. 41 Robert Gooding-Williams, “Disney in Africa and the Inner City: On Race and Space in The Lion King,” Social Identities: Journal for the Study of Race, Nation and Culture 1, no. 2 (1995): 373–79. 42 Teun Van Dijk, Racism and the Press (London: Routledge, 1991). 43 Teo, “Racism in the News,” 18. 44 Rohrer, “How Dangerous Is South Africa?” 45 ‘“Magic’ World Cup python seized in South Africa.” 46 Simon, “World Cup Heaven or Hell”; emphasis in original. 47 Harding, “Beware South Africa’s Roads.” 48 Simon, “World Cup Heaven or Hell.” 49 Ibid. 50 Ibid. 51 Ibid. 52 Daniele Archibugi and Simona Iammarino, “The Globalization of Technological Innovation: Definition and Evidence,” Review of International Political Economy 8, no. 2 (2002): 98–122. 53 Stig Hjarvard, “Globalisation and the Role of News Media: News Media and the Globalisation of the Public Sphere,” in News in a Globalized Society, ed. Stig Hjarvard (Nordicom: Gothenburg, 2001), 17–39.

INDEX

Abdullah, Zain 223 Abdul Rauf, Mahmoud 221, 223, 229–31 Academicals 59 Accra Hearts of Oak 76 77, 83 Accra Sports Stadium 62, 68, 212 Acheampong, Colonel Ignatius Kutu 73, 74, 77, 79, 82, 83, 85 Acquah, Edward 61 African Americans 93, 96, 98, 102, 220, 221, 223, 225, 229 Africa Cup of Nations 61, 64, 75, 76, 79, 212 Afrikaans 93, 114, 131, 157 Afrikaners 91, 92, 99, 138, 153, 161, 168 Ainsworth, Dorothy 132 All Africa Games 79 All Blacks (New Zealand) 98–9, 101, 103, 160 Alli, “Young” Liadi Ademola 22 Amateur Sport 17, 60, 70 Anglo Boer War 10, 90, 153 Apartheid 2, 3, 7, 10–1, 101, 137, 148, 153–4, 156, 168–76, 178, 209, 242–4 Arthur, John 225 Armoured Reconnaissance Regiment/ Recce Regiment 76, 81 Armstrong, Henry (boxer) 94, 102 Australia 44, 90–1, 94, 98, 139–40 Baba Yara 64, 67 Bacongo 30–3, 36–8 Balali Uprising 29–30, 32–4, 39 Barcelona 213

Bar dancing 36–7 Battle, Jim 130 Battswood Teachers’ Training School 133 Bennett, Elley (boxer) 94 Bergman, Martina 132 Black Arrows 65 “Black Flashes” 96–8, 102 Black Meteors 79–80 Black Stars 61, 63–4, 67 Manute Bol 221, 233 Boland Rugby Union 172 Boohene, Sam 69 Bo Kaap 100, 154 Boxing 3–4, 8–9, 14–15, 17–19, 21–24, 61–63, 65, 69, 75, 77, 79, 90–4, 96–8, 102–3, 114, 126, 198, 202–3 Boys’ Club Movement 14–5, 17–20, 22 Brazzaville 28–39 Braddock, James J. 93 Breede Valley Municipality 170 British Colonial Service 16 British East and West Africa Company (BEWAC) 18, 20 British Empire 45, 47, 90–2, 101, 153, 182, 184, 190 Brownlee, Jean 130 Busia, Dr. Kofi 73, 80 CAF 208–9, 216 Cameroon 28, 43–55, 208, 211, 246 Cape Colony 138, 156 Cape Flats 95

Index 251

Cape Town 10, 92, 94, 97, 98, 100, 111, 116, 125–33, 137–8, 154–6, 163, 169, 241, 246 Cape Winelands District Municipality 173 Carden, Cecil 156, 162 Carolin, Harold J. 156–7, 162 Central Organization of Sports 9, 59–60, 66, 71 Champion of Champions 63, 113, 117 Chinwuba 21–2 Citizenship (Citizenry, Citizen) 17, 22 City and Suburban Rugby Union 92, 99 Cleophas, Mona 130 Colonialism 3, 5–7, 9, 11, 29, 39, 45, 53, 74, 84 Colonial Soldiers 74, 191 Colored Labor Preference 170 Coloured South Africans 89, 133 Coloured Young Men’s Christian Association 92 Commonwealth Games 64, 66, 79, 129–30 Congo (Congolese) 28–39, 210, 241–2, 246 Convention People’s Party, 59, 65 Costain 15, 18 Craven, Danie 100, 130, 145–6 Cricket 2, 6, 9–10, 18, 43–55, 61–4, 69, 91, 95, 140, 161, 181, 186–9, 197, 237 Currie Cup 156

General Acheampong 73, 74, 83, 85 Ghana Armed Forces 73–6, 80, 84 Ghana Armed Forces Sports Control Board 75–6 Ghana Boxing Board of Control 62 Ghana Football League 60 Gold Coast Amateur Sports Council 60 Gold Cup 61, 65 Gondar Barracks 76 Gyamfi, C. K. 62

Daulatzai, Sohail 223, 230 Dell, Andy 128 De Nova 170–4 Djan, Ohene 60–71 Dynamos 110, 116, 119, 210

Kaizer Chiefs 111–2, 118, 155, 209, 215, 218 Krige, Japie 155, 161

Eland, Ron 101–2, 129 133 Ellis Park 99 Ember, Joszef 61 Empire (British) 8, 16, 19, 45–8, 53, 89–92, 101, 153, 182–4, 190 Empire (French) 28 English Premier League 207, 213, 218 Etege Menen School 197 Évolué 28–39 Fanon, Frantz 224 Farnsworth, Jack 18 Faulkner, Donald 14, 17–8 Éboué, Félix 28–32, 36, 39 FIFA 1, 2, 7, 11, 60, 63, 107, 207–8, 211, 212, 214, 217, 238, 240, 244 Football (soccer) 1 6, 8 11, 14–8, 21–5, 29, 31, 46, 50, 51, 59–71, 75–84, 99, 106 120, 143, 157, 176–7, 181–93, 197–203, 206–17, 239–42 French Equatorial Africa 28, 33, 36

Hall, Stuart 154 Hayatou, I. 208, 209 Highlanders 186, 210 “Imagined communities” 43–5, 55 International Olympic Committee 102, 140, 197 Islam (Muslim) 33, 99, 100, 220 233 Johannesburg 95, 99, 111, 114, 115, 138, 155–6, 159–61, 242 Johnson, Cornelius (Olympian) 96, 98 Johnson, Jack 92–4 Jonathan, Rachel 132 Joubert, Steve 159–62 Juvenile Delinquency 14, 17

Lagos (Nigeria) 9, 14–20, 225 227 Langa 95, 144 Lawn Tennis 20, 22, 23 Leisure 1–6, 14–7, 29–32, 37–9, 128, 141 Loubser, Bob 160, 162 Louis, Joe 93, 96–8, 103 Manchester United 213, 215 Marsburg, Arthur 158 Masculinity (Manhood, Manliness) 2, 8–11, 14–17, 22–5, 55, 90–1, 94–5, 98, 103, 138, 162, 223 Maori 98–9, 102 Marbell, W. T. 69 Marshall Square 159 Meda, Jan(Jan Hoy Meda) 197, 198, 201 Menelik II School 197 Metcalfe, Ralph (Olympian) 96 Morkel, Andrew 155 Morkel, William 156, 161 Muscular Christianity 99–100, 184 “Muscular Citizenship” 15, 23–4 Muscular Islam 99

252 Index

Muslim (See Islam) Mutombo, Dikembe 221, 230–1, 233 Natal 91, 92 Nationalism 2–3, 5–6, 11, 14, 127–8, 138, 140, 169, 182, 192, 193, 199, 208, 222 Nation of Islam (NOI) 223, 229 National Liberation Council 59, 70 National Party (South Africa) 96, 101, 103, 108–9, 139 NCAA 220, 224 New Zealand 90–2, 98–9 Newlands 95 Nigeria 2, 4, 5–7, 11, 14–25, 62, 208, 221, 224–32, 242, 244 Nigeria Table Tennis Association 19 Nkrumah, Kwame 59 Okwahu United 212 Olajuwon, Hakeem 224–33 Olympics/Olympic Games 2, 7, 46, 64–5, 95–8, 101–3, 129–30, 140, 144,145, 153, 182–3, 191, 193, 196 –7, 202–3, 230 Owens, Jesse 93, 96–7 Olorun Nimbe, Dr. Ibiyinka 21 Orlando Pirates 111, 116, 118, 119, 209, 214–5, 218 Osagyefo 61 Pakeha (New Zealand) 90–1 Patronage 21, 211 Petain, Philippe 28 Physical culture 124–33, 197 Pillay, Milo 101, 129, 130 Ping Pong (Table Tennis) 14–25 Port Harcourt 19 Poto Poto 30–2, 37–8 Pritchard Street 159–61 Quainoo, Gen. Arnold 84 Race 2, 7, 11, 53, 55, 89–98, 102–3, 106–9, 118, 126–7, 138, 145, 154, 163, 167– 9, 173–9, 220–5, 229, 231–3 Racial segregation 11, 89–90, 92, 95, 100, 102, 140, 168, 200, 202 Racism 3, 94, 98, 129, 138, 147, 220, 223–5, 245 Rawsonville 167, 179 Real Madrid 215

Real Republikans 61, 64, 66 Renson, Ronald 131 Roos, Paul 155–6, 163 Rugby 2, 7, 10, 89, 91–2, 98, 101, 103, 117, 128, 137–48, 153–63, 168–79, 187, 197 Schmeling, Max 93, 96 Selassie, Emperor Haile 196–8 South African Native Congress 154 South African Olympic Games Association 101 South African Rugby Board 98, 100, 157, 161 South African Table Tennis Board 130 Soweto Derby 209 Sport Office for the Indigenous 196, 200, 201, 203 Springboks 7, 10, 92, 98–101, 103, 152–63 Stellenbosch 91, 155, 178 St. Alban’s Amateur Boxing Club 98 St. George Sport Club 196, 199, 202, 203 Sundowns 210 Super Stars ’74 (SS’ 74) 10, 74–84 Table Tennis (See Ping Pong) Teferi Mekonen School 197, 199, 201 Tibo Committee 68 Toweel, Vic 94 TP Mazembe 210 Transvaal 18, 109–10, 114, 138, 155–6, 161 Tusker 210 UEFA Champions League 207 Uhuru Cup 62 United Africa Company (U.A.C.) 15, 17, 20 United Tobacco Companies 161 Weightlifting 101 Western Cape 130–1, 167, 170 Western Province 92, 99, 101, 127–9, 153 Western Province Coloured Rugby Football Union 99 Western Province Coloured Rugby Union 92 White supremacy 54, 93–6, 103, 220, 228 Yanga 210 Yidnekatchew Tessema 200 Young Nigeria 18 Zamalek 210